The Long Winter RPG

[piosenniel]

Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hill they long have known.

-- J.R.R.T.

[ November 25, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Bandobras Took, popularly known as Bullroarer, peered nervously out the window of his study. It was early fall in the Shire, but snow blanketed the ground. It had been there all summer. There'd been no harvest that year, and food was running perilously short. Somehow, someway, the hobbits must find provisions before winter began.

Bullroarer could see hobbits approaching his front door in groups of twos and threes, buried under heavy cloaks and fur earmuffs. They'd come from every corner of the Shire. Their trips had not been easy, since many roadways has a thick coat of ice and snow that made travel very slow.

Once they arrived, each traveler was led into the Great Hall near the blazing hearth for a bit of food and drink. Soon, the meeting would begin. Then they'd decide whether to adopt Gandalf's strategy to send a band of hobbits to Rivendell to pick up food and supplies. Bullroarer personally hoped they'd adopt the plan. Anything was better than sitting here and doing nothing while hobbits went hungry!

*****************************************

About forty hobbits gathered at the Took family mansion. They huddled near the fire for warmth, as the Wizard stepped forward to explain his idea. Gandalf was well armed with charts and maps, and focused intently at the serious, hungry faces staring up towards him. Some looked hopeful, while others seemed sunk in doubt and fear.

Gandalf patiently explained that the Elves were the only ones who'd had foresight to squirrel away provisions for hard times. Elrond had agreed to Gandalf's request that they share some of these, but he'd insisted the hobbits come to Rivendell on their own to get them. There was no other way. Yet, with the disastrous state of the roads and hungry critters out roaming the countryside, this seemed like an overwhelming task to many of those present.

Once the Wizard finished, hobbit after hobbit stood up to speak, all disagreeing with the proposal. One of the fiercest and loudest of these, Collin Boffin, faced the gathering with one hand on his hip and the other waving wildly in the air. "What madness is this! None of you will get through in this weather. You'll meet your death falling off some snowy cliff. And who's to say the Elves will help you?"

"Begging your pardon, sir," Collin turned toward the Wizard, and respectfully bowed, "But you are not a hobbit. What assurances do we have that these strangers will come through, when they are not even our kin?"

Collin turned once again to his hobbit neighbors and friends, wagging his finger in the air. "Stick to your own kind, I say. You'll be better off. This weather is bound to break, if you'll be patient a bit longer."

Gandalf shook his head and sighed, "One day, I fear, there will come a time when Middle-earth will not survive unless the free peoples band together and learn to appreciate one another's ways. That time has not yet come, but it does no harm to begin learning these lessons."

"But, beyond that, I worry that any change in the weather will come too late to help your kin. So far, despite hunger and suffering, you've managed to survive. But how long can that last? I've already seen death strike in Gondor and Rohan. If we do nothing, it's only a matter of time until that happens here too." Gandalf's dire words trailed off, as the Wizard gazed out at the assembled hobbits hoping for another voice to speak up in his support.

At that instant, Bullroarer heaved himself up, and pounded on the floor with a thick cudgel for everyone's attention. All forty hobbits, even Collin Boffin, fell silent as the hero of Greenfields stepped forward with a flourish and began to speak.

[ November 26, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

‘Collin Boffin,’ said Bandobras quietly, ‘we cannot feed our families with patience. Nor can we fill our children’s empty stomachs with promises of a change in the weather.’ He looked round the room at the ragtag gathering of hungry Hobbits. ‘I stand on the side of good Hobbit common sense. The Elves have food to spare. Master Elrond has given his word that he will share what bounty he has with us. We have but to go to Rivendell to retrieve it. It is quite straight forward to my way of thinking.’

He looked directly at Collin. ‘If this is madness, then call me completely mad. For I intend to go to Rivendell.’

There was a collective gasp at this announcement, and then a swelling murmur of voices, as Hobbits turned to each other, wondering what hope the Bullroarer saw where most saw none.

‘It will be a long journey, and there will no doubt be perils along the uncertain way. But to stay here brings the certainty of death ever closer for ourselves and our families. We have the chance to succeed if we but try. Staying put here gives us no chance at all. We will grow weaker, until we are nothing but food for the hungry Wargs.’

He looked at the map Gandalf had pinned to the wall, and traced the journey with his thick finger, tapping it lightly on Rivendell. He stood with his back to the assembly, and spoke low, as if to himself. The Hobbits moved in close about him, straining to catch his words.

‘We will need each to bring a pack animal, two if possible. Gather what foodstuffs can be spared. We will hunt and fish along the way as we can. Bring warm clothing, bedding, and means to make shelters from the cold. Cooking supplies, candles, firestarters. Arms, too – stout cudgels, slings, bows, long knives, sharpened staves, a pitch fork, even, will do nicely.’ He ticked off the items from his mental list as he went along.

Bullroarer turned back to face them, waving them back from him a fair pace. ‘Only the best and the bravest will I take with me. You know who you are. Come! Stand before me now. Who will dare the Great East Road to Imladris with me?’

He leaned on his cudgel, his eyes glinting with the challenge, and waited.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn looking up scared at Bullroarer. He looked so big and tall there, especially for a Hobbit, and very imposing. ‘He’s a hero,’ she thought to herself, ‘What right do I have to join him on this quest that is so perilous anyway.’ Autumn gazed at the map, and then suddenly something in her clicked, and she stood up staraighter than she ever had before. She would make this journey and represent the Gamwiches of Bywater. “Bullroarer will probally just laugh at me,’ thought the hobbit, ‘I haven’t even come of age yet. But there is no one else in my family who can make this journey, so I have to. We have to get that food!’ she thought wildly.

Summoning up all of her courage, Autumn walked forward from the crowd. Standing a foot from the Bullroarer, she began a spirited speech, that made all the hobbits stare surprised at the young hobbit lass, “I will go on this journey with you, Master Took. I am strong enough to, being raised on a farm and all. I can use a knife better than anyone one in my village, and I can shoot a bow pretty well, too. I am considered to be a good hunter, and healer, and I think, I know that I can be an asset to you on this journey. I don’t care how perilous this trip will be. We have to get this food, or our families will starve. So, I will come with you, Master Bullroarer. My name is Autumn Gamwich, and I will come on this journey to represent the Gamwiches of Bywater.”

Bullroarer smiled down at the young hobbit, “You certainly have a fiesty temper, young lass. You will fit in excellently with our group. Now go and pack up your supplies, Autumn. We will all meet here tomorrow. “ Bullroarer turned to the rest of the group and greeted each new recruit as they stepped forward. Autumn quickly rushed away, her heart beating rapidly with excitement.

Carefully, but quite quickly, Autumn raced down the street, covered with snow and ice, to the inn down the road that she was staying at. She already had most of the supplies that she needed. She always carried her sword and bow with her, and she had brought her pony, Tom, with her when she had journeyed to the Took’s very large house. All that she would need was some extra food, and maybe another coat, since it seemed that it was getting colder all the time, and probally not likely to stop for a while.

Autumn when into the old inn and warmed her hands by the blazing fire in the hall. Then she went off to find the innkeeper, upon finding him, she asked him to pack any extra food that he could spare for her journey, and told him a little about it. He gazed at her unsure, wondering why the Bullroarer would want such a young lass on this dangerous mission. Finally, he consented to give her as much food as he could spare, plus he would find her a warm coat, and Autumn quickly paid him the due amount. After this, Autumn went to check up on Tom; a few carrots stowed safely in the pocket of her old coat.

When she arrived at the stable, she found her old friend, and quietly petted him as he ate her gifts. Whispering softly in his ear, the young hobbit explained the journey that they would be going on very soon, as Tom moved his head up and down as if he could really understand all that she was saying. Hearing her stomach rumble very loudly, Autumn resignedly left Tom to find some food. As she entered the main hall of the inn, she found a big crowd of hobbits, standing and seating, eating and drinking, in there. Many pairs of curious eyes greeted her as she walked into the room, but the hobbit did not feel like talking right then, so she ordered a light meal and sat down at a lone table in a corner of the room to enjoy her meal.

[Nurumaiel]

Robin was stroking her pony Gil-Galad's nose and talking to Dinodas.

"It was good of you to say we were going when Bullroarer 'challenged' us," she said. "I wanted to say something, but I was so nervous I could hardly speak."

Dinodas smiled at her. "Of course I spoke up, Robin," he said. "But you had better start packing."

"I will pack, I just need to talk to Bullroarer for a minute," Robin said. "It concerns Gil-Galad."

"Go on, then," Dinodas said, and Robin hurried off, leaving Dinodas with Gil-Galad's rope.

"Probably wanting to know if she can take Gil along," the hobbit lad said, half to himself and half to the pony. "Well, my fine friend, if you can come, do you want to?"

Gil huffed a warm breath into Dinodas's hand and nickered.

"Let's get you breakfast, at any rate," said Dinodas. "Then we'll wait till Robin comes back."

****

"Er... Bullroarer, sir?"

"Hrmph... yes?" Bullroarer said, noticing the hobbit lass. "Have you packed yet?"

"No, not yet, sir," replied Robin.

"Well, maybe you should."

"I'm going to, but first I have a question to ask you."

"Ask away," Bullroarer said. He hoped he hadn't sounded too gruff, but he still had his doubts about all these females.

"Is it all right if I bring Gil-Galad, my pony, along?"

"Of course, Robin," Bullroarer replied, trying to sound more gentle. "We will need pack ponies on our journey."

A smile broke out on Robin's face. "Thank you so very much!" she cried, and ran to find Dinodas.

Yet when she arrived at her hole, where she and Dinodas would pack together, she found that Dinodas was nowhere in sight. But there was a note on the table.

'Robin,
I've gone to meet Autumn Gamwich, who will be travelling with us. Gil-Galad has already had breakfast. You can pack without me.
Dinodas'

***

Dinodas was in his hometown, Bywater, looking for Autumn. He had heard that she also lived in Bywater, and he seemed to remember seeing her about very often. She was a beautiful young hobbit lass.

"About my age," Dinodas said to himself.

He was approaching another inn that was in Bywater besides the Green Dragon. He had visited it on several occasions, and something told him Autumn might be there.

Pushing open the door, many eyes turned to look at him. Some of the hobbits recognized him, some did not.

But there was Autumn, sitting at a table all alone, eating a meal.

"Autumn Gamwich!" he cried, and strode over to the table. She looked up at him, trying to recognize him, and failing.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

Dinodas smiled pleasantly and took a seat next to her. "No, though you may have seen me about town a few times. I live here in Bywater, also."

"Not meaning to sound rude, sir, but want do you want with me?" Autumn asked politely.

"Just to meet you," said Dinodas. "My name is Dinodas Green and I will be one of the travellers on this journey to Rivendell." He extended his hand.

[ November 25, 2002: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[ November 25, 2002: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[dragoneyes]

Hal had stood forward at the meeting, enheartened by Autumn's speech, so had Gaddy aswell.

The next day in the stable, while they were packing up Hal's horse, Fallor, they talked,
"Yer didn't have to come just because of me y'know Gaddy."
"Whatever gave you the idea I came along because of you?" replied Gaddy Jokingly
"Because I know yer Gaddy, yer wouldn't have stepped forward if I hadn't've"
"Yeah, well, life would be so dull around here without you, I had to come along."

They continued packing in silence until the last few things were being packed and both Gaddy and Hal were having trouble reaching the top of the horse,
"Please tell me, Why did you bring such a large horse?"
"Oh, you know me dad, he can't help but show off, had to send his best horse off with me, not my fault it happened to be a cart-horse, probably the only one which could make the journey anyway."
"Maybe, but did he really have to be so big?" said Gaddy in desparation, completely unable to reach the right part of the horse.
"Do you want a leg-up there?"
"Yes please, that would be great."
"Come round here then."
Gaddy went round to Hal at the side of Fallor, he stood on Hals clenched hands and Hal vaulted him up onto the top of the horse, Gaddy scrambled up and held on tight. He soon relaxed though, realising there was really nothing that would happen up there, Fallor, though the biggest horse he knew, he was also the gentlest horse he knew and he sat up there admiring the horse's smooth chesnut coat and strong muscles.

"Are you goin' to sit uo there all day or actually pack something?"
"Oh, right, throw something up then."
Hal threw up the last three things and found a bow, right at the bottom of the pile.
"What did yer bring this for, yer can't even use it."
"You never know, a spare bow might come in handy."
"Alright then." he said as he threw it up to Gaddy. Gaddy secured it fast and they both checked that everything was attached properly.

They decided everything was fine and they set off out of the stable, back to the Took family mansion, Hal leading Fallor and Gaddy looking quite comical among all the baggage on top of the horse. He was wrapped up tight in a cloak which his mother had made sure that he wore, so he looked like another blanket, like the ones rolled up around him, but with a small pink face sticking out at the top.

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

Bullroarer turned back to face them, waving them back from him a fair pace. ‘Only the best and the bravest will I take with me. You know who you are. Come! Stand before me now. Who will dare the Great East Road to Imladris with me?’

* Across the room, Giles Harfoot took a deep breath. He set down his box of handyman tools on the floor. More reluctantly, he set down his beloved black hawthorn "whacking stick" alongside the repair kit, with only one glance back to make sure it wouldn't crawl away like an unattended pet. *

* The diminutive Hobbit strode more tall-seeming than his 3 ft., 3 inches height to the middle aisle. He thrust out his lower lip. He paced off a few running steps. He sprang three breathless dizzying cartwheels, turned in midair to leap into a diving somersault, then finally came up with a curt hop into a flourishing bow before the regal and revered Bullroarer Took. *

I, Sir. I dare, ... Giles Harfoot, at your service. As for the best, I'm the best cabinet-maker in Starfield, so they say. Anything wooden you need made or mended along the way, consider the job done. As for the bravest, well, I drew the short straw of duty, but unflinching. I shall strive to represent the Harfoots upholding the family honor as best I may. My bags are packed. My pony Puddlejump stands ready.

* Giving a second bow, Giles politely stood aside with the other volunteers who'd come forth, awaiting the challenging road ahead. *

[ November 25, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Nurumaiel]

With a sigh, Robin set to work on packing. Dinodas had to run off, didn't he? Had to meet Autumn Gamwich.

"Well, he'd better not be gone too long, or I'll be stuck packing his things, too," Robin muttered.

Going to her wardrobe, she yanked it open a little ferociously. She pulled out her knapsack and opened it. Fishing some clothes out of the wardrobe, she stuffed them carelessly in, and then walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. From there she went into the larder, where she snatched up what food she could find (which was not much).

"Clothes, food... water? Or does Bullroarer want us to drink from streams and such?... We'll see... er... feed for the ponies... but that's not until later. What else should we bring? Oh yes, blankets and pillows!"

Robin rushed back into the bedroom and packed both the blankets and the pillows, and then sat down on the bed with a sigh. "What else?" she muttered to herself, then groaned. "Packing is awfully boring. I wish we could get to the adventure." She suddenly blushed. "I know what my Mum would say if she heard that. 'It's not worth it if you don't work for it, Robin,' she'd say. But I'm going to take a rest and visit Gil-Galad.

Not that Robin needed a rest; she'd only been packing for a few minutes.

She left her hole and stepped out. Walking on the crisp and cold snow, she made her way towards the little stable next to her hole. It could not exactly be called a stable... it had only one stall. In fact, the stall itself was the entire building, except for a very small room where the feed and saddlebags were stored.

Shivering, Robin pushed open the 'stable' door and found herself face to face with Gil-Galad, who gave a loud whinny. "Hello, Gil," Robin said, her teeth chattering. "Had your breakfast already?" She looked at her pony's water pail. "I see you have no water left," she said. "I'll send Dinodas after some later. After all," she added under her breath, "it'll serve him right for making me pack alone."

[Alkanoonion]

The journey from his home in Crickhollow was an odious one for Carl Hoarwell, it was always hard in the winter to leave a warm house but in early fall it was intolerable especially when every room in his home had nice large fireplaces to warm the hands and kettles.

Stamping his feet to help Circulation Carl paused and looking down he saw his reflection in the ice. Looking back at him was stranger. The face looking back at him was smooth with no facial hair and fair skin his cheeks were now looking gaunter than he remembered. A touch of fatigue was around his blue eyes. His long golden hair, once his pride and joy was looking dull and unkempt from spending weeks trying to find food in the woods. Carl could only shake his head if he was like this what of the other Hobbits in the shire?

After a summer of snow little food remained for Carl and he dreaded how the other Hobbits were faring. He had it good; at least he could hunt in the wilds for a meal while other less skilled Hobbits starved in their cold homes. For this reason Carl travelled to Bullroarers home for a meeting to discuss the problems of the long freeze. Trudging along the roadway Carl was glad to finally see Bullroarers door, as he entered he was led into the Great Hall.

The meeting was just starting and Carl looked around the hall scrutinising his companions, they all had the look of exhaustion from worry but also one of hope, hope that Gandalf would have all the answers. The Hobbit listened as Gandalf explained his desperate plan to Travel to Rivendell to collect the promised supplies that the Elves had saved.

Carl listened through Gandalf’s plan and thought it a good one, when to his bemusement each Hobbit found fault with the plan and could only just with a mighty effort hold his tongue when Bullroarer stood up admonishing the crowd.
"Only the best and the bravest will I take with me. You know who you are. Come! Stand before me now. Who will dare the Great East Road to Imladris with me?"

Smiling with pride at Bullroarers speech Carl stood up as a wave of pride in his fellow hobbit moved him to volunteer. Now was the time for action, dammed if he would be left behind when his people needed him. Carl stood and faced Bullroarer his tall 4-foot stature standing him above most of the other hobbits in the room.

“I will dare the Great East Road with you and with me will go my Bow and dagger useful for both hunting and fighting if needed”

Bowing, to Bullroarer Carl stood aside to prepare for the road ahead.

[ November 26, 2002: Message edited by: Alkanoonion ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Most of those who were going on the trip to Rivendell had raced up to Bandobras during the meeting to plead their case. Branda's strategy had been a little different. He'd waited until the gathering had adjourned, with hobbits walking off in all different directions. Then he'd quietly come up behind Bullroarer, cleared his throat, and asked to talk.

"I'd like to come along," he said, tugging on the hobbit's cloak to get his attention. "You have no one who can get fish out of an icy pond or stream. That's one of the safest and surest ways that we can find something to eat without exhausting ourselves chasing after game. Plus, I have a stock of herbs and healing potions passed down from my mother that are second to none in the Shire. And I know at least a bit about using them."

Bullroarer shook his head, "I didn't say you wouldn't be useful, but you are a married man with one child here and another on the way. Most of those going are footloose wanderers, or at least have no spouse or youngsters at home."

Branda stood mulishly in front of Bullroarer, "The last time I looked you were married and had many sons and daughters. That hasn't stopped you from going places!"

"Alright, suit yourself, Branda, but I want no complaints from wives that their husbands have run off."

"You don't have to worry about that with us. Bell is with her sister, and I've laid in a fine store of fish for both of them, smoked and frozen. They'll not go hungry. My wife also understands why I have to do this."

"And just why is that?" Bullroarer demanded.

"Because it's the decent thing to do. There are children with growling stomachs. Because I want to see an Elf one time in my life and maybe, just maybe, I'll show my neighbors what an "outsider" can do to help the Shire."

"Can you be back by tomorrow?"

"Aye," he responded. "My family stays with Bell's sister in Westfarthing. My two ponies are ready to go and my belongings wait there. Let me say farewell to my wife, and I'll return by mid-morning."

Bullroarer sighed and shook his head yes. The lad was right. Gathering food on the road could be a problem. And who knew what injuries or illnesses might come their way? Folks told tales that Branda was so talented he could charm fish out of a pond, and that he knew strange bits of healing and herbal lore no one else in the Shire did.

Nor was Bullroarer surprised when the Stoor mentioned the suspicions of his neighbors. The lad's great-grandparents had come from the area near Gladden Fields. There were some very funny tales and hints about those hobbits. According to rumors, no good could come from Gladden since, long ago, there'd been some terrible mischief there, which had best be forgotten.

Still, this young man did not look untrustworthy in any way. Bullroarer wondered about those strange tales and vowed to ask Branda if he knew about them, perhaps some night around the campfire when they were on the trail.

[ November 26, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Lotho watched with narrowed eyes as many young hobbits almost ran to the Bullroarer to proclaim that they wanted to go on this journey. Suddenly, he strode up from the wall he had been leaning on casually and looked at the Bullroarer evenly.

"So you've got your expert huntsmen and fighters," he said. "But what good will the journey if you don't get what you want? You need a negotiator. I can help you."

He looked at the Bullroarer, who smiled.

"You're right. Very well. You may come."

Lotho nodded and swiftly left the room. He didn't need to pack much, but there were some things he needed to see to.

*****

Lotho sat in front of the fire in his small hobbit hole. All in all, it had been a good day. He'd managed to sell the perishable goods that he had attained, had sharpened his knife, packed his few belongings and had obtained a winter cloak for an excellent price. The old clock on the wall told him that it was seven o' clock. He would have a meal at the Green Dragon. He looked around his warm little home one last time, took the key off the wall and stepped outside. He locked the door securely, sighing as he regarded the faded green door fondly. Tucking his cloak around him, he hurried off down the lanes, head bent against the cold.

[Child of the 7th Age]

It hadn't taken long for Branda to return to his wife and begin to load supplies onto the two ponies. He'd thought carefully over what things he might need, On one pony he strapped bags that included a sturdy rope; lines and lures and hooks, along with a good sharp pick that could break through the ice or be used in self defence; his kit of herbal remedies; a warm blanket for himself and each of the ponies; and a number of splints and cloths in case anyone should get hurt; a tinder box; snow shoes he'd made that would take him over the top of crusted snow, a small pail, a pan and mug, a tiny torch, and a change of clothing. The other pony was to be heavily ladden with smoked and frozen fish to help their band get through the first day or two on the trail.

He'd wear a fur cloak with a hood and, being a Stoor, thick dwarf boots with a dagger hidden underneath. Another dagger would go about his waist, and two harpoons in a case thrown over his back, carried in much the same way as quiver and bow. That would have to do. He thought one more time, then went to the cellar and tucked in the last of the shrivelled apples he'd found to give the ponies Sandy and Stoney a well deserved treat.

That had been easy. Now came the hard part. He could hear Bell and her sister calling him to dinner, probably fish stew with a few roots mixed in. It was always the same, but at least it was food. Peony was waiting for her daddy to come and play. He'd have to say goodbye tonight, then leave early the next morning before the sun had even risen to make it back to Tukborough by mid-morning. He wasn't about to take any chances that they might leave him behind.

[ November 26, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn quickly went outside early the next day; she was determined to be the first one there. Her bag of food bumping along on her back, she hastily checked over her mental list of thins to bring on the trip.

Three pairs of clothes, a pair of thick snow boots, two coats, two fur blankets, a few precoius gold coins, which she had earned by cleaning old Master Breeche's home in Bywater, stowed safely away in her pack, her bow and a quiver of arrows on her back, her three short knives (one on her leg, another one her side, and one more on her arm), plus her precious longer knife given to her father by the elves. It was said that no harm would ever come to whoever owned or weilded the sword. She also had a pretty good supply of food and water, a bit of rope, and some herbs and cloth raps for healing, though she had heard that another hobbit was to be the healer for the journey, but extra healing untensils never hurt anyone. Autumn hadn't packed a map or compass,though. She figured that the Bullroarer would take care of that, not that she was any good with a map anyways; she never could read one of those blasted things, they were so confusing.

Autumn reached the stable of the inn and began to load her bags onto her pony. She did this very neatly, organizing everything and putting everything in its proper place. Then the young hobbit lass quietly climbed up onto her pony, Tom, and headed off to the Took's mansion, where the Bullroarer was waiting for his other traveling companions to arrive.

[dragoneyes]

Hal and Gaddy continued down the road, they'd been walking for a while now, neither of them could bother to keep the time, but the sky was still light, though it was grey and threatening to hail or snow or send some such other form of weather down on them.
"Dear me, the sky ain't too happy is it?" said Hal,
"If by that you mean it's grey, then yes."

"Shouldn't be too much farther by my rekoning we've, well, I've been walking for a while now."
"Hey, now don't blame me that you aren't tall enough to get up here."
"I'm not, I'm blamin' yer for me not being tall enough. I'm blamin' yer for not being strong enough to pull me up."
"Me? Pull you up? You're a huge great lump, I'd have no chance."
"It's not my fault, I'm built this way, just because you're one of the smaller hobbits in the Shire,"
"I'm small and proud of it." said Gaddy, and so he was, he barely reached Hal's shoulder, it was the stoor blood in him. When he'd walked up to Bullroarer, he'd been made to feel smaller than ever, he didn't mind though, he was used to it. The only thing which really annoyed Gaddy about his height was when it came up in conversations with distant relations, everyone else was told how they'd grown, whereas he was always told how he was as small as ever.

"We're nearly there anyway, so don't get too guilty for making me walk."
"Oh, how near are we?"
"Just round the next corner." They rounded the bend in the road, and there was the magnificent Took household, it looked different when not packed with hobbits as it had been the day before. The road was empty, it seemed as though they were the first there. Hal led Fallor up to the front door, banged the knocker and waited for an answer.

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Nurumaiel]

"Very well, I will pack for him," Robin said, throwing open Dinodas's knapsack. "He's not coming back. Still probably talking to Autumn Gamwich." Robin sighed. "I suppose it would be nice to meet some of the fellow adventurers before we set out for Rivendell, but since Dinodas plans to do just that, there's no one left but meself to pack, and I've got to do that."

A few minutes later Robin was trudging through the snow, her knapsack on her back, Gil-Galad's rope in her hand, Gil-Galad himself behind her, laden with bags. She was heading for the Took family mansion once more. It must be time to go now, and she was ready.

***

As Dinodas knocked on the door to the Took family mansion, he hoped Robin wouldn't be too angry with him for not being there in time to pack. Glancing behind him, he could make out a figure walking through the snow, a pony behind him or her.

Worried that it was Robin he knocked again, louder. The door slowly opened.

[ArwenBaggins]

As Bullroarer was about to leave the almost empty room, a young, curly-headed hobbit lass came from behind the door that led into the snow.

"Excuse me, Mr. Took?" She looked up to Bullroarer, who was about three inches taller than her. He just grunted.

"Yes..Well, I am Daffodyl Bulger from Stock. I heard all about this adventure, and I though you might need me. I am very skilled in cooking, and I can fish too. I own a pony, Mooncloud, and she's really fast. I am almost of adult age. I love the outdoors, because I was brought up with four older brothers. We would camp almost all the time. Well.... May I join??" She looked at him softly, and he smiled and nodded his head.

"Thank You! I will ride home, and be back by mid-morning." She ran out, and almost slipped on the ice, but continued on.
***

"Guess What Mooncloud!" She whispered as she rubbed his neck when they reached her hobbit-hole. "I'm goin' to Rivendell!" She kissed his muzzle, and ran into her house.

"Food? Check. Blankets? Check. Clothes?Check. Another Coat? Check. More blankets. Yep. Um..." She searched around, and said again:
"Tarp!" She grabbed a big tarp, which had been torn and sewn many a time.
"I think I'm ready." She sighed deeply and walked out, closing the door behind her.

"Come on Mooncloud. We're goin back to the Took Mansion." She hopped on her pony, and slowly rode off, looking at her quiet home she was leaving behind.

[ December 01, 2002: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

[Losthuniel]

Celandine's eyes grew wide as she heard Gandalf and Bullroarer outline thier strategy. Rivendell! the home of the Elves! Not to mention the chance to show her parents thats she was good for something at least.

Bullroarer turned back to face them, waving them back from him a fair pace. ‘Only the best and the bravest will I take with me. You know who you are. Come! Stand before me now. Who will dare the Great East Road to Imladris with me?’
He leaned on his cudgel, his eyes glinting with the challenge, and waited

Celandine sighed. 'best and bravest' that certainly wasn't her. But Elves! it was her only chance to ever meet one of that fabled race. Celandine knew she had to try.

She listened intenly as Autumn Gamwitch made a spirited speech in front of all the hobbits. Bullroarer said something inaudible to the hobbit lass, but Celandine could tell by the skip in her step as she waded through the crowd to the door, that she had indeed been accepted to the mission.

Celandine's shoulders slumped. She was no good at speech making. As the meeting disperesd, and the the hobbits went back to their lodgings, Celandine waved to her father to tell him she'd be along shortly. Several others seemed to have her idea, and Celandine hug around at the back until they had left.Setting her jaw, she walked up to the hero of the Greenfields, her stomach rocking with every step.

"Mr. Bandobras?"

"What? Who are you?" He glared down at her, and Celandine suddenly felt a lot smaller that her three-feet-something.

"My name is Celandine Brandybuck.I want to come along."

He raised an eyebrow at her, ever so slightly incredulous.
"Why doe everyone seem to think that I have suddenly become a nanny for children? I highly doubt you have very many skills that will be useful to us."

Celandine drew herself up, indignant. "I can cook, I can hunt, and I'm not afraid of skinning animals..." She realized nervousness was causing her to speak faster than she intended to.

"And what about Wargs?"

"I'm a reasonable shot with a bow, and I can usually keep ponies from frighting."

Bullroarer still had his eyebrow raised.
"And why would a little hobbit-lass, not yet come of age, decide to come on a perilous journey through forest, hill, snow and rain, just to get food for the Shire"

Celandine grew a little bolder, and her voice steadied. "I think you've answered you own question, sir."

Bullroarer's eyebrow went higher, if that was possible.
"I am not a child-sitter. This is a cold, long, dangerous journey. Absolutly not."
Celandine glared, and set her mouth in a stubbourn line.

"Why do you reject an extra pair of hands and two ponies?"

"My dear, it is simply too dangerous."

Celandine stamped her foot angrily. "I don't care! I'm capable with a bow!"

Bullroarer sighed. He was never going to get rid of the lass. "Alright. you can come." Her face lit up in delight. "But-" Celandine's brows dropped straight into a displeased V "you must ask you father's permission." Bandobras nodded to himself. the girl's father would never let her come. That was that problem out of the way.

Celandine nodded, smiling " Thank you, Sir"

"We meet here first thing tomorrow.If your father gives his permission."

The girl nodded, struggling into her cloaks. thanking him one more time, she heaved the door open, and very nearly skipped down the street.

Celandine, naturally, had no intetion of asking either her father or her mother. She grinned hppily as she rushed back to her uncle's hobbit hole. She was going to see the elves!

[ November 28, 2002: Message edited by: Losthuniel ]

[Calenedheliel]

Bullroarer had just finished talking to Branda, another hobbit that Daisy had yet to meet, when Daisy approached him. “My pony and I would make a good addition to this group Master Took” said Daisy. “We Tooks need to stick together and show that we can really help the people of the Shire when called upon” she continued. “I can use my slingshot for protection or to hunt with, and that should be a big help for the group on the way to Rivendell. So, may I join?” Asked Daisy.

Bullroarer looked at her cautiously and mentally rolled his eyes and thought to himself, "Oh no another young female hobbit." But she was a Took and he didn’t want to offend the rest of the Tooks by not accepting her on this dangerous trip to Rivendell. He told Daisy that she could go and she needed to hurry and get packed and get back to the mansion before morning.

Daisy got her pony and ran home as fast as she could. She packed three sets of clothes, an extra winter jacket in case the one she wore got wet. She packed her slingshot and a medicine bag just in case anyone got hurt during the trip. She then went into the kitchen and packed all the food she could find. She also packed feed for her pony Lily just in case there were times when they couldn’t find a place for them to graze.

Finally, she was packed and on her way back to the mansion. She had butterflies in her stomach from all the excitement she felt. Running along the road she couldn’t help feeling happy about going to Rivendell and meeting the elves. She also knew that this was going to be very dangerous, but felt that she could handle the danger.

She hoped that she would get to spend time walking with Gaddy. "I want to get to know him better, because he seems to be very nice." Thinking about him made her smile. "I just hope that I can look at him and talk to him without blushing, as it is quite embarrassing," she thought to herself. She hoped to see him tonight and to meet his friend Hal, and get to know him so that maybe he would tell her a little bit about Gaddy.

Finally, she arrived at the mansion to see that a lot of the other hobbits had already arrived. She took Lily to barn and settled her down for the night. I better go and get something to eat at the Green Dragon before I settle in for the night, she thought. So, off to the Green Dragon she went.

[ November 26, 2002: Message edited by: Calenedheliel ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Even the vegetable soup featured by the Green Dragon served as another reminder of the urgency of Bullroarer's quest to Rivendell for food. Grassy herbs and leeks graced the thin broth where only a month before taters, parsnips, celery and even mushrooms had bobbed aplenty. Every now and then you still might come across a spoonful of turnip or carrot. Still, the cook did his best with what he'd got, using every last shred of turnip leaf and parsley sprig towards satisfying the Shire's ever-growing hunger. Giles Harfoot finished his crust of bread, pocketed several carrot tops and half an apple for his pony Puddlejump, stood with a sigh, and made for the stable. *

* Puddlejump nickered softly at his master's absent-minded affectionate pats on his mane. The pony patiently ate the food offerings placed in the manger while the Hobbit double-checked supplies. Flickering lantern-light traced branchlike ripplings of golden glow and gentle shadow against the wall, as if to shelter their thoughts against the night-snow gathering just outside into ever-deepening drifts of doom. *

* Giles' carpentry kit contained three chisels, a plane, a planing knife, two hammers, a pouchful of iron nails, several gimlets and files, four clamps, and a hand drill. *

* Giles himself brought with him or carried a dark brown wool cloak and hood, a spare set of clothes, a tinderbox with flint and char cloth for making fire, a tin cup, knife and spoon, two small buckets, the sort of small axe customary to carpenters, a money pouch with what silver and copper pieces the Harfoot clan saw fit to contribute as a going-away present, and his whacking stick. Some of his possessions Giles would carry in a pouch hanging from his broad leather belt. Others, Giles would load onto Puddlejump. *

* Puddlejump came equipped with several nosebags of oats, a blanket, and canvas bags secured with ropes. *

* Always though, it came back to food. Giles would see how much food he could buy to take with him from the Green Dragon ... and meanwhile try not to feel guilty that whatever food he took, someone else in the Shire would have to do without. *

[Elenna]

Emerald dug through forgotten mathoms, trying to find that one jar of carrots she knew she had hidden in the cellar.

"It is the last one, after all," she muttered to herself. Turning over pile after pile, she finally gave up. "Pa!" she called upstairs. "There isn't a scrap in this whole house!"

"Excellent, girl!" he shouted back. "Give us a good excuse to go to The Green Dragon!"

Emerald sighed. How had she known that was coming?

[Alkanoonion]

Carl Hoarwell rose early the next day after spending a restless night in the Green Dragon. Leaving his room Carl made his way to the common room to see what meagre food was available. For breakfast Carl had leftover Vegetable soup that looked closer to water than soup served with a crust of bread. After the less than satisfying meal Carl made his way to the stable to purchase a pony for the long trip along with what little feed could be spared for the poor beast.
Examining the last pony in the stall Carl thought that she looked half starved but he knew that she was in better shape than many of the shires inhabitants.

On the pony Carl strapped his camping kit, which included his spare cloths, what food could be purchased from the Green Dragon; a first aid kit, his bedroll and a spare cloak. On his person Carl kept his Dagger, Bow and a pouch full of tobacco and his new pipe purchased from the Green Dragon and lastly his flint and tinder. Carl was ready for the trip.

Making his way back to the Took House Carl saw the others preparing to leave, nudging the pony he moved to join the group.

[piosenniel]

It was a frosty, cold morning when they set out. The warm breath of the ponies sent trails of fog spiraling out into the early morning air as they stood in the yard waiting for the two footed travellers to come out of the house.

'Thank goodness it didn't snow again last night.' said Mrs. Took in passing to her husband.

Camelia, as she was known to her friends and family, had just finished the packing for Bandy, as she called him, and was now loading some wooden crates up with what foods they could spare for the companions. They were a fortunate family - a number of strong sons still lived near and they and their father had hunted far afield to bring in game and fish for the Took larder. She herself had had a small, but productive garden, and had come up with a wonderful new idea for getting small plantings through frosty periods. Cold frame gardening she called it. She and her sons would be helping neighboring families to set it up for themselves while Bandy and his group were away.

Bullroarer was holding a last minute meeting in the large front room. Maps had been spread out on the tables there and groups of hobbits were bent over them. He had divided the group into five sections, and each group had a leader, of sorts, with a map. Someone he felt the others in the group could go to for direction and advice as needed.

There were 6 copies of their route. One each had gone to Halwon, Giles, Carl, Dinodas, and Branda, the last of course being for Bullroarer himself.

Dinodas would be paired with Robin. Hal would take Gaddy and Daisy. Carl with Daffodyl. Giles with Autumn. Branda would oversee Emerald and Celandine. Lotho would ride with Bullroarer, himself - there was much they needed to discuss about dealing with the Elves.

There were some raised eyebrows at these pairings, but Bullroarer made it clear these were for travelling purposes only. When camped, the males and females would separate into their own groups. It was Camelia who had first brought this to the old campaigner's attention, and knowing many of the girl's families - she had been adamant about this arrangement.

Each day a different group would lead the others, scouting out the Great East Road before them as need be; that is, once they left the boundaries of the Shire.

Camelia brought in several pots of hot, sweet tea and each had a final cup before stepping out the door. She stood on the door step, and waved good-bye to them as they started down the road. Branda and his group led the way.

All her good wishes trailed down the road after them. And she thought they might need them, as she noted the once again Bullroarer had neglected to have the wobbly left rear wheel of the great wagon fixed.

'To Frogmorton!' cried the great voice of Bullroarer from the rear. 'The Floating Log!' rang out several voices in response, anticipating already a warm fire and a pint.

[ November 28, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Losthuniel]

Celandine was nervous, very nervous. That was the only emotion getting through the cold. She wondered when her father would wake up, and then, a few hours later, discover his daughter was missing. He would probably guess that she had left with Bandorbras and the company, for he knew she had always wanted to see the elves. She winced as the thought of her reception at home occured to her. Her parents would be furious.

She wondered what her cousin's reaction would be, when he found that she had stolen several pairs of his clothing for the journey.

Celamdine blushed in embaressment as hobbitfolk leanbed out of their windows and cheered at them as they went passed. Celandinde his herself behind Branda. She hoped her father was not yet awake, for that would be disatrous, if he caught her trying to leave.

She blushed even more as a hobbit-lass came running up to them, wishing them all farewell and good luck.

Celandine fell forward with a squeak, as a very large something barreled into her. She grinned through the snow. There was only one person who greeted her like that.

"Anston, get OFF me"

"Begging your pardon, cousin dear. But I wanted to wish you good luck, for I assumed you were going when I discovered three sets of clothing gone missing." He grinned at her. "Bring me back something. An elvish dagger prehaps? Or a splendid jewel?"

"Anston, you can't even use a dagger"

Her cousin grinned at her foolishly "I know. But it would be a pretty thing to have"

Celandine shook her head at him. "Go back, before your mother works herself up into a fit."

"MY mother? When you don't come home with your father, she's going to think you've been carried off by wolves or somthing."

Celandine scuffed her feet in the snow. "I know. Tell them goodbye for me."

Anston nodded "I'll do that. I must go, I've a farther way to run back than I had to get to you" wich was indeed true, for they had been tramping along at a steady pace as the cousins talked.

"Farewell, and good luck"

"Farwell"
Anston turned and scurried back down the road, as fast as his cloaks would allow him.

"Who was that?" asked Emerald, the other hobbit lass led by Branda

"My cousin, Anston." Celandine smiled fondly "We practically grew up together. We would always pretend that we were great heroes, off saving the day, and having great adventures."

"Why didn't he come along with us?"

Celandine shook her head "He's an only child, and his mother isn't well. He feels he has an obligation to stay with her.

[ November 30, 2002: Message edited by: Losthuniel ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn heart beat fast as the company started marching down the road. Women, crying out things, such as, "Good luck to you all!", as tears streamed down their faces, waved from their windows. Young hobbit children raced about the street, waving and calling to the travelers. Men looked up from their work to wave and call to the smiling and blushing travelers.

Autumn smiled, embarrased. She had never had so much attention before. Looking over at her traveling companion, Giles, she smiled at him as the joy of traveling swept her up. Then she turned back to the road and let her thoughts wander.

She saw a young hobit boy look up at her and wave, and Autumn choked down tears, for he looked a lot like her younger brother, Bill. Autumn thought about the last time when she had seen him. His pale, shruken face looking almost white against his brown bedding sheets. He had smiled up at her weakly and wished her good luck on her journey. Autumn felt her eyes start to water, but she fought back the tears, trying to appear tough to the other travelers.

[Nurumaiel]

As they set off down the road towards Frogmorton, Robin saw that many hobbits were cheering as they passed. She suddenly realized just what their company was doing for the Shire, and she felt pleased that she was part of it.

Beside her Dinodas walked on silently, every so often glancing over his shoulder with a rather sad face. Robin noticed it. "What's wrong, Dinodas?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm just not to up to leaving my sister behind without a goodbye," Dinodas said, shrugging. "She's such a sweet thing, Ann is. She was too busy cooking what we had left for the hobbit children in Bywater that she had no time to say goodbye to me. But that's all right, because I know she'll be thinking of us."

Robin smiled at him. "I haven't got much at home but me mother and father," she said, "but I'll miss them, and I don't know how I'm leaving them. To keep myself from running back home into my mother's tender arms, I just think of what joy there will be at our return."

"You think we will return, then?" Dinodas asked.

"Bullroarer will take care of us," Robin said, not really answering. She had turned her face away so Dinodas would not see the tears rising to her eyes at the thought of leaving her home and perhaps never returning. "I wish there'd been time to say goodbye more proper," she said, her voice coming out in barely a whisper. "But with all the packing to do there just wasn't. I only got to give Mum and Dad a quick hug before we had to go."

Just then there was a shout. All the company turned and saw a young hobbit lass running towards them. Dinodas immediately recognized her as Ann.

The girl first flung her arms around her brother's neck, tears spilling from her eyes, and then she embraced Robin. She walked from hobbit to hobbit, telling them how brave they were to do this for the Shire and shaking their hands. When she came to Bullroarer she hesitated a little, for she wasn't as sure of herself in the presence of this great hobbit, but at last she found words.

"I've most to thank you, Mr. Took, sir, for if you hadn't spoken up that day saying it's Rivendell we should go to for food, none of them would be going to help all the hobbits in the Shire. While you're gone I'll do what I can for the children, but I hope you'll accept this." She held out a small bag. "Little cakes, sir, for you and your company. Not much, but I thought they might bring you cheer when the road is dark."

Bullroarer took the bag from the lass, and smiled down at her. "Thank you," he said, and then turned to the company. "We'd best continue going towards Frogmorton now!" he said, and all the hobbits turned from Ann and began trudging through the snow once more.

Ann went once more to her brother and hugged him tightly as if she'd never let him go. "Come back soon and safe, Dinodas," she sobbed. "Mum and I'll be waiting for you." Then she let go and walked slowly away, back towards her home.

As they continued on, Dinodas was not ashamed of the tears that fell freely down his face.

[ November 29, 2002: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn walked on down the worn road, barely seeing it, after Ann had left. Ann had reminded Autumn so much of her little brother, and now she wished that she could see him again, before she left. Looking up, the hobbit noticed Dinadad, who was walking along with tears in his eyes. Autumn felt sorry for him; she knew how it felt to leave brothers and sisters behind to go on this journey.

Autumn picked up her speed, waved to Giles that she would be right back and went over to talk toDinadas. She saw him quickly wipe his tears away as she approached, and Autumn smiled at him. She could tell that he was trying to appear tough to the rest of the company, and her heart ached for the pain that he must be going throught right then; the pain that she knew very well in her own heart.

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas brushed the tears from his face as Autumn approached. He could see there was pain in her own face, and he knew he was not alone in the parting.

"Hello, Dinodas," Autumn said, walking along beside him.

"Hello," Dinodas said, looking rather embarrassed.

"Your sister Ann is very nice," said Autumn. "You'll probably miss her."

"I will," replied Dinodas. "I suppose you think me foolish, a hobbit lad at 32 years old, crying because he's leaving home for awhile."

"I don't think you foolish. I'll be leaving my brother, and I feel no less sorrowful than you. Besides, we all know that we might not come back."

Dinodas felt a smile come to his face. Autumn understood.

[dragoneyes]

Hal, Gaddy and Daisy were all quite bewildered by the young hobbit shaking their hands and thanking them.
"Hey, Gaddy, didn't she look like me sister?"
"Which one? You have five."
"Well, all of them, rolled into one."
"I suppose, but if you're going to say that, she could look like anyone."
Hal rolled his eyes and hit Gaddy on the shoulder,
"Don't be so literal."

"You have five sisters?" said Daisy to Hal,
"Certainly do-"
"All younger than him," Interrupted Gaddy, he caght Daisy's eye and a pink tinge came to both their faces. Gaddy looked away,
"I've got one older sister, a younger sister and a younger brother."

They continued to talk about their families. Hal looked away, he hadn't really thought about his family, he'd said goodbye to all of them many times, and his father was very proud of him for going, but he still felt that he hadn't said enough. How could you explain to a five-year-old that you're going away and might not come back. Hal looked across at Dinodas and Autumn, they looked like they were thinking the same sort of things.

Hal shook his head and came back to the real world,
"You alright Hal?" asked Daisy,
"Yeah, I'm fine, jus' thinking"
"About what?"
"Nothing important," Then, changing the subject, he said "I think I aught to get meself more used to the map."

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

"How old's your brother, Autumn" asked Robin, joining in on the two hobbit's conversation.

Autumn looked over at Robin and smiled, "He's only 17. He wanted so badly to go with me on this journey, but there was no possible way that I could let him go after the attack and all. He's just not strong enough to go on this hard journey." Autumn gaze flickered to the ground, and she kicked a stone in anger.

Robin and Dinadas looked over at each other suprised. "Attack?" asked Dinadas.

"Haven't you heard of the Warg Attacks near the outskirts of Bywater? When the wargs came and attacked a small farm, nearly killing a young hobbit boy?" Autumn said, looking up at Dinadas questioningly.

Dinadas nodded, staring at Autumn in awe. "Do you mean that your brother was the one attacked by the wargs?" Robin asked her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Autumn nodded, tears forming in her eyes, though she tried to fight them back. "Yes. My brother and I were just playing outside, when, all of a sudden, wargs came out of nowhere and attacked us. I, luckily, had my dagger with me, so I was able to fight them off, but not before Bill was seriously injured. The doctor says that he is doing better, but what with the food shortage and this cold winter, it is having a terrible affect on his spirit. I just hope that he doesn't die before I can make it home with some of the food that we will get in Rivendell. I think that as long as I'm with him he won't die, but I don't know what will happen to him while I'm gone. But, I've got to keep hoping he'll be all right till I come home to him." Autumn raised her eyes from the ground, brushing away some stray tears, and smiled at her two traveling companions.

"I think that everyone on this journey has a reason for coming. That's my reason for why I'm on this quest. So, what is your all's reason?" asked Autumn looking back and forth between Robin and Dinadas.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Giles would be paired with Autumn, hmmm? At the back of the pack, Giles shuffled through icy slush, blushing a little, watching Autumn talk with everyone but him. But could he help it, if he was the kind who earned the reputation of finding it easier to talk to his hammers and saws and gimlets than to Shire folk? "Dealing with Dwarves, acts like he's just crawled out from under a rock, that's what comes from messing with metals and cutting down trees" his neighbors would say, shaking their heads with knowing concern. But no other Harfoot had volunteered to go with Bullroarer to Rivendell. *

* Reaching a decision, Giles nodded. Reaching down, he packed a fistful of snow until it glistened soft and smooth. Then, in a pleasant voice he sang out, "Oh Autumn !!!" smilies/smile.gif He aimed to miss, turned a cartwheel in the snow, stood to his feet, and waved a cordial greeting. *

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn laughed, surprised, as Giles did a cartwheel in the middle of the road. He's probally mad at me for leaving him alone, thought Autumn. I shouldn't have done that. it wasn't very kind of me. Deciding what she would do, Autumn handed the reins of her pony to Dinadas, and walked back to Giles and bowed low.

"That was a lovely performance, Giles." the hobbit lass said smiling at him, as she stood back up before him, "Would you like to join in on our conversation?"

Giles smiled, slightly blushing, "Of course I would, Autumn."

Quikly, Autumn lead Giles back up to Robin and Dinadas, who were waiting for her. "Robin, Dinadas, this is my companion, Giles," Autumn sayed cordially, taking her pony's reins from Dinadas.

Robin and Dinadas smiled at Giles, and then the four of them started walking down the worn raod covered with snow.

[Nurumaiel]

"You asked earlier what our reasons for going to Rivendell were," Dinodas said as they continued down the road. "I suppose my reason is because of my sister. She puts all the effort she can into caring for all the hungry hobbit children, that I felt I had to do something."

Robin was gazing up at the sky as she walked along, and she suddenly realized all eyes were on her.

"Oh," she said, blushing quickly. "I came on this adventure because..." She paused. Why had she come, anyway? She had no brother or sister. There was no great reason for her to have gone along.

Everyone looked expectantly at her. "I decided I come along because I wanted to help, I guess," Robin finished lamely. "I don't exactly know why I came, but I'm sure there is a reason." She shrugged. "I guess I'm not making any sense."

Autumn was looking at Dinodas curiously, for he had a wicked grin on his face. The hobbit lad moved closer to Giles and they began whispering together. Then Dinodas moved to stand next to Robin, while Giles walked next to Autumn.

"What's going on?" Robin demanded.

Dinodas just winked at Giles, and then all of a sudden the two hobbits lads grabbed the two hobbit lasses and swung them up onto the ponies. Robin and Autumn both screamed with surprise, and then looked blankly down at the two lads.

"Who was screaming over here?" a voice said.

The four hobbits turned to see Bullroarer standing by them, and the rest of the company looking at them curiously. Bullroarer's face was stern, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

"Er... that was us, sir," Robin said, gesturing to Autumn and herself. "You see, the boys kidnapped us."

"I see," Bullroarer said. "Just don't scream anymore unless there's really something to scream about." He walked back to the front of the company, chuckling softly so as no one would hear him.

Autumn looked indignantly down at Dinodas and Giles. "Now what was that for?" she asked.

"Oh, pay them no heed," Robin said, slipping off Gil-Galad. "They're just too full of energy."

Autumn jumped off Tom and smiled. "Does that mean we're friends?" she asked.

"Yes!" came the cry from the other three.

[Alkanoonion]

Carl Hoarwell, lead his pony along the Great East Road beside him walked the young, curly-headed hobbit lass Daffodyl with her pony, Mooncloud. Carl studied the young hobbit that he had been assigned. Strange that he would be in charge of a hobbit that was older than he. Not being around other hobbits Carl was not very good at conversation with hobbits, never mind one that was of the female persuasion. Every time he opened his mouth around them he seemed to put his feet in.

‘Um… so your name is Daffodyl. Do you cook!’ said Carl. ‘Now why did I say that’? Thought Carl. Of course she cooks she’s a girl.

Daffodyl just looked at him. Carl looked away in embarrassment.

Taking his roll as leader seriously Carl scanned the roadside looking for any signs of wolf tracks. Wolves could be drawn to them from lack of food. Normally wolves would shy away from people, knowing that the larger beings were capable of producing fire. Even those smaller beings like a hobbit. However, during these lean times a female hobbit must look appealing to a pack of hungry wolfs. Taking out his bow Carl nocked an arrow in preparation for trouble.

The pair continued travelling in silence. During this time Carl continued his scanning of the countryside, looking up the road Carl saw a squirrel scamper into a tree beside the road. Taking aim Carl let loss a shaft pinning the rodent to the frozen trunk. At least they would eat fresh meet tonight. Taking the squirrel Carl tossed it to Daffodyl.
‘For our dinner. You can show me your cooking skills when we stop’. Daffodyl did not respond to this comment.
‘ I like my meat well cooked, with a few wild herbs added’. He looked towards Daffodyl to see if she agreed to his demands. She still remained silent.
‘You know… to keep the blood flowing’.
‘…’
‘ Fresh wild herbs, although in this weather they may be a bit hard to find’.
‘…..’
‘If you can not find them then I guess I could sacrifice some of my precious dried ones, although I’m reluctant to do so. You never know when someone might get sick’. She was not responding to him. He looked back at her again. She did not look too happy, ‘but you can never tell with these hobbit women’ he thought. ‘Maybe she is sitting on a bur. At least that’s what her expression would suggest’
‘If you are not fond of herbs, I’ll understand if you don’t eat?’
‘………’
“Um… is you bottom paining you?’ he asked expectantly.
‘……………….Squirrel? I think I can do something with this, but only….’, the squirrel flew back through the air towards Carl. He caught it in time to hear her finish.
“… if you skin it and prepare it first. This is a joint venture. We share all the chores. Even the cooking”. And with that issue settled to her satisfaction, Daffodyl left Carl holding the dead animal and with a stupefied look upon his face.
‘What was that all about?’

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Lotho had regarded the cheering hobbits with a cynical eye as they had left. Several of them had given him cold looks. He didn't blame them. They had been the not-too-happy customers of last year's leftovers from the harvest. All in all, Lotho was glad to get away from the Shire, and glad to get away from some of the unfriendliness.

Still, he felt important riding alongside the Bullroarer, who regarded the road ahead with a steady eye. He turned his attention to a hobbit ahead of him who was swinging a dead squirrel absent-mindedly in his hands (Carl Hoarwell, was it?) and rode up to him, feeling amused.

"All right there?" Lotho asked, his eyes twinkling slightly. "You look rather... " Lotho searched for an appropriate word. "...Surprised?" he finished.

[Child of the 7th Age]

The first leg of the trip was not too different than travelling back and forth to Bullroarer's house. The air was nippy, and the roads had a thin sheen of ice and snow, but it was possible to make steady progress. Branda smiled with amusement at the antics of Dinodas and Giles as well as Carl and Daffodyl's disagreement over the squirrel. Giles was usually so quiet and serious, but it seemed as if Dinodas had a gift for bringing out a mischievous streak in him.

All of the company were leading one or two pack horses, animals they owned or that had been given to them on loan from Bulroarer. It was vital that they get the ponies through. There was no way they'd carry enough on their own backs to feed the Shire through the winter.

As they walked along, Branda tried to make polite conversation with the two female hobbits that Bullroarer had told him to 'oversee'--Emerald and Celandine. But he felt awkward talking with hobbits, especially women, he barely knew.

Plus, the young hobbit wasn't quite sure what Bullroarer meant when he told Branda to "oversee" the women. That sounded a bit like the times his wife asked him to tend his three-year old daughter to make sure she didn't do anything rash that would land her in serious trouble. He guessed he was supposed to keep a close eye on them.

Branda was certainly familiar with this neck of the road, and had been to Frogmorton several times. He wondered if the Inn would have food in its larder or they'd have to rely on their own stores they'd brought along. Sandy was ladden with heavy bags of smoked and frozen fish, but he didn't want to use those unless he absolutely had to. He'd already spoken with Bullroarer about it, and he had agreed.

An hour of steady marching had passed when they made a brief stop to pick ice and stones out of their ponies' hooves. Branda took the opportunity to pull out the map Bullroarer had entrusted to him. He was carefully studying the route when Emerald came over.

"I'd like to look at that too," she said, leaning over and about to remove the map from Branda's hands.

"Hey, stop that," he responded in a soft but determined voice. You can look later. Maybe sometime tonight. I need to look at this route. That way, our group will be prepared when it's time for us to scout out the trail ahead."

Branda leaned against Stoney's back and peered more intently at the map in front of him. He hoped he had the ability to scout out the road as Bulroarer wanted him to do. In truth, his scouting and map reading skills were not very good. Usually, at home, he knew all the paths and trails by heart and never bothered with a map. He would actually have appreciated some help in figuring out this puzzling piece of paper. But, since Bullroarer had placed him in charge of the women, he didn't dare show them that he knew less than they did, at least about this.

Emerald was a no-nonsense girl who would not take no for an answer. Especially when there didn't seem to be any real reason for it. Surely, Branda could take five minutes to reliquish his precious map to her. Or even more sensibly, they could study it together and share their ideas.

Frustrated at the situation, Emerald turned around, scooped up a huge wad of snow, aimed straight and true, and smacked Branda square in the middle of the face. "That's what you get for not sharing the map!"

The hobbit stood by the side of the road, his face dripping with ice. For a moment, Emerald was uncertain what the lad would do. Even Branda was uncertain. Maybe he should sternly reprimand her. And then he did something that, for him at least, was totally out of character.

He had been under so much pressure: providing fish for his family and neighbors, fretting about the new baby on the way and his little daughter Violet, seeing other hobbits grow lean and sick, worrying about rumors of warg attacks, and now being placed in charge of two girls whom he barely knew. He was so sick of doing nothing but worry and act serious. Hobbits just weren't like that. When was the last time he'd attended a party or even spent the night carousing in a tavern? He couldn't even remember. All he could remember was snow and fighting off hunger.

Something inside Branda snapped. He came up laughing with a silly gleam in his eye, and grabbed a handful of snow, sending a snowball streaming over in the direction of Emerald. He hit her squarely on the back. Bullroarer stopped at the front of the line and looked on aghast as others began picking up snowballs and hurling them at their neighbors.

[ November 30, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[dragoneyes]

Daisy, Hal and Gaddy were walking along in relative silence, the conversation had seemed to died off somewhat. Gaddy and Daisy were just walking, Leading Fallor and Lily, while Hal had his head buried in the map, trying to work out what he thought the best route was. Hal had only been given a quick course in map-reading, it not being needed for everyday use, so he was a little slow at working it out.

Soon enough the snowball fight broke out, the three didn't join in though, at first anyway. A stray snowball, thrown by none other than Branda, flew strait between Hal's face and the map and hit Gaddy in the side of the head.
"Hey! Watch the map!" said Hal,
"And my head!" Added a disgruntled Gaddy, Hal carefully folded up the map and packed it away into his trouser pocket.

Branda didn't listen to their complaints and instead threw another one at them, it headed directly at Gaddy, who ducked just in time. Then, without saying a thing all three of the group picked up some snow, rolled it into a ball and Branda found himself faced with three oncoming snowballs. He dodged one but the other two hit him on the leg and side,
"That'll teach you to throw snowballs at us!" cried Gaddy.

"Hey," said Emerald, "No one throws snowballs at my group leader and lives to tell the tale!" She threw her own snowball, which hit Daisy on the arm.

Soon the group had broken into their smaller sections and were throwing snowballs at each other, the pack animals and Bullroarer looked on, Bullroarer trying to gain some control of the situation.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn had looked on happily as the snowball fight began; not totally sure whether or not she should join in. She saw Bullroarer stare aghast at Gaddy and a few of the other hobbits. But Autumn's attention was quickly changed as a stray snowball came flying at her, and hit her squarly on the side.

Autumn looked around for the culprit and saw Daisy, a little ways off, gazing triumphantly at her. Grinning, Autumn picked up some snow and threw it hard at Daisy,but she missed and hit Hal, who looked over at her and threw a snowball in her diretion. Autumn quickly ducked, though, and the snowball hit a surprised Giles in the face. Thinking that Autumn had thrown the snowball at him, Giles threw one back at her, missed, and hit Dinadas, who then threw one at Robin. And, so, their own little snowball fight was on.

Autumn ducked behind her pony, and grinned at Giles. She threw a snowball at him, and laughed as he was hit right in the face. Looking over at Bullroarer, Autumn's blood suddenly went cold in her veins.

There, a top his large pony, sat the hobbit with snow dripping down his face. It appeared that Bullroarer had accidently been hit by a stray snowball squarely in the face, and, now, he was very angry. Autumn stood up, wondering what the hobbit would do, barely noticing as she was hit in the back of the head with a snowball by Giles.

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas snatched up a snowball and threw it at Gaddy, who was hit square in the nose. Robin laughed as Hal hit Dinodas in the forehead with a nice, firm snowball. She threw one at Daisy and was hit at the same time by Autumn. Grinning wickedly, the young Brandybuck took her revenge on the Gamwich, and then hurled a snowball at Giles.

The fight was just starting to get good, when Dinodas threw a snowball at Daisy and missed. The snowball hit Bullroarer smack in the face, and suddenly the group was silent.

[Calenedheliel]

She was really happy that Bullroarer had paired her with the two young hobbits. This would give her the chance to get to know them a lot better. They talked about their families as they walked along. Daisy told them that she had four brothers and two sisters at home, all of whom she had the chance to say goodbye.

The conversation grew quiet between the three hobbits again. Then Daisy heard Autumn ask everyone why they had decided to go to Rivendell. Daisy hadn’t really thought about why she was going other than to help get food back to all of the hobbits in the Shire. She realized that she was on this trip to try and prove to her self that she was really growing up and able to take care of herself. As she tried to answer the question a snowball went flying at her. The snowball had been thrown by Emerald. Everybody was picking up the snow and throwing snowballs so Daisy picked one up and threw it at Dinodas. She hit him on the arm and he in turn threw one at her. She ducked just in time, it went by her head and hit Bullroarer.

“oh my goodness,” Daisy thought as she looked at Bullroarer sitting on his pony with a shocked face. She didn’t know if he was angry or just truly surprised, so she ran behind Gaddy and hid hoping to stay out of the limelight if Bullroarer was really mad and started yelling. After all she didn’t start the snowball fight and wanted someone else to take the blame. She also didn’t want to be the one who had to tell Bullroarer who had hit him, or that because she ducked he got hit. As she stood there, she thought about how the snowball fight had helped break the tension everyone was feeling. It also gave them a chance to laugh for a few minutes, something some of them hadn’t done in months. Daisy hoped that Bullroarer would take that into account before he started yelling at everyone.

[ December 01, 2002: Message edited by: Calenedheliel ]

[piosenniel]

They hadn't even made it through the first day's trek and already the group had devolved into silliness. Still, he thought to himself, the group had broken the ice so to speak and were becoming more at ease with each other's company. He was feeling pleased with his pairings and chuckling over his clever use of the phrase 'broken the ice', when the cold, wet missile hit him.

He was surprised, more than angry, though any of his family would tell you that his expressions were often hard to read. Bullroarer wiped the slush from his face and turned his keen eyes on the group, seeking the culprit. All throwing had stopped, as the Hobbits looked at him wondering how he might react. All had an air of innocence about them as they stood there politely, hands behind their backs. And every single one of them look guilty to his eyes.

His gaze caught Lotho, standing off to the side, tsk-tsk'ing, at this display of foolishness. A wicked smile creased Bullroarer's lips as he picked up a great handful of snow, and forming it into a compact ball, lobbed it at Lotho, catching the surprised Hobbit squarely in the chest.

The group gasped to see Bullroarer throw the snowball, then cheered and joined once again in the melee. It was chaos on the Great East road for a short while as the air grew thick with Hobbit propelled snow. At last, wet and tired from their fun, they called a truce, laughing and brushing each other off.

Bullroarer marshalled them into line once again and they set off toward the Floating Log. It was only a short distance, round a bend in the road. They were glad to get to it. The sun had started to set and the air, already brisk, was growing colder, with the promise of more snow.

The fire in the common room was inviting and Bullroarer ordered pots of hot tea and honey all around. Once he had settled with the Innkeeper for rooms and food, he went out to the stable to see that the horses and ponies were well looked after by the stable boy.

Satisfied, he crossed the yard back to the Inn. The night sky was crisp and clear for the moment, thought they sky to the east promised hurrying clouds filled with snow, The stars shown out for a brief time like bright stones on black velvet. His gaze sought out The Wain and then Wilwarin in the north. Low along the western border stood Menelvagor, the Swordsman of the Sky, the one who protects Arda from the return of Melkor, or so he had learned from the Elves.

'Watch over us.' he murmured as his eyes took in the mighty form. His breath left a steamy trail in the cold night air as he strode back quickly to the warmth and light of the Inn.

Unheard by him, as he passed through the door and shut it tightly, was the distant, chilling chorus of howls.

[ December 01, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ December 03, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl walked in behind Carl, and watched him swinging the squirrel. Shw quietly walked beside him, and tapped his shoulder. He looked at her with a slight jump.

"I guess you don't need me to cook that squirrel now...that we've reached this pub, I mean." She looked down at the bloody squirrel.

He stomped his feet on the rug as they stepped into the dim light, and he slightly blushed. "Well, I dunno. I might eat outside. I don't want all these little girls hanging around.

Dafodyl turned red. "Little Girls, aye? Well, not all women are little stay at home mothers and cooks. Nope. Not me." She smiled slightly and looked at him, and he just replied 'oh.'

"Well, whatever you do, you better eat. We won't have alot of bars along the trail, so take advantage of them." She patted his back, and walked farther into the smokey room.

[Galadel Vinorel]

As Autumn stood by the bar ordering four mugs of ale, she saw Dafodyl and Carl walk into the bar. Carl was swinging a bloody squirrel and Dafodyl looked sort of angry at him.

Autumn smiled as Dafodyl walked up to the bar to order a drink. "Hello," said Autumn.

Daffodyl looked over at the hobbit lass, slightly surprised. "Hello, Autumn. So, have you been enjoying the journey so far?" asked Dafodyl, smiling over at the hobbit lass, not yet come of age.

Autumn nodded, taking the ales from the bartender. "Yes. Especially the snowball fight. I loved when Bullroarer threw that big snowball at Lotho. I didn't expect him to do that, since he always acts so serious all of the time. But, after that, I have decided that Bullroarer is actually a pretty nice hobbit, though I wouldn't want to get on his bad side." said Autumn with a shiver as she watched Bullroarer enter the Inn.

Autumn turned towards a table where Robin, Giles, and Dinadas were sitting waving at her and calling her to come over. Suddenly, Autumn turned back to Dafodyl and smiled. "Do you want to join my friends and I at our table, Dafodyl?" asked Autumn, smiling at the older hobbit, "You can even invite your friend, Carl, to come with us if you want."

Dafodyl looked over at the three cheerful hobbits sitting at their table, enjoying one another's company, and then at Carl standing up with the bloody squirrel, not quite sure what to do with it, and then back over to the smiling Autumn.

[ December 01, 2002: Message edited by: Galadel Vinorel ]

[piosenniel]

The common room of the Floating Log was abuzz with the chatter of Hobbits when Bullroarer descended the stairs from his room. Well fed and warm, the Hobbits had gathered into groups and were discussing the first day of the journey. From where he stood on the steps, he could see Giles, Robin and Dinodas laughing at something Autumn had said, and he watched as Daffodyl and then Carl drifted over to join the conversation. Branda sat at a table with Lotho, both drinking ale and engaged in some low voiced conversation with much gesturing for emphasis. Elenna and Celandine sat with Daisy and appeared to be trading stories with Hal and Gaddy.

He walked quietly into the room, and stopped a passing serving girl, asking for a mug of ale. He walked up to the bar where Gundabald, the Innkeeper stood and bade him a good evening. Old Gunny, as he was called in Frogmorton,had heard of Bullroarer's mission to the Elves and plied him with questions.

The Floating Log, as well as most of Frogmorton, had succumbed to the dire progress of this long winter. Bullroarer had noted how the stew served that night, once quite rich and thick and the talk of travellers to the eastern Shire was now grown thin, souplike, with the stray vegetable floating here and there and only the vaguest hint of soupbone present. The ale, too, was thin, and there was no wine to be had at all. Still the hospitality of the Inn kept to its former standards and all were well served with what slim fare was available.

Bullroarer wandered over to Branda's table and asked if he might speak with him for a few moments. Branda nodded his assent, and Bullroarer asked if he might gather the Hobbits together sometime this evening and have them decide who might lead the group tomorrow. If they got an early start, they might make it to Whitfurrows and possibly just beyond by tomorrow evening. He was eager to leave the boundaries of the Shire behind as soon as possible, before heavier snows came.

Gunny had spoken quietly to him of the trouble they'd had lately with packs of Wargs coming farther into the boundaries of the Shire as hunger made them bolder. Bullroarer relayed his concern to Branda, saying that the sooner they got to Rivendell and back the better in his book.

[Nurumaiel]

Robin and Dinodas introduced themselves to Dafodyl, and then they began to chat, mostly talking about snowball fights. Autumn and Dinodas told of times when they were children and had snowball fights with their little brother for Autumn, little sister for Dinodas.

Robin was half listening, but she was mostly gazing around the inn. "Strange not to be at the Green Dragon safe," she muttered to herself. "We're going on a dangerous adventure."

"Hmm?" said Giles, thinking Robin had been speaking to him.

"Oh," said Robin, smiling at him. "I was just thinking how we're going on a dangerous adventure instead of enjoying ale and food with the promise of a warm home when we leave."

"I think the same thing sometimes," Giles agreed.

"Hey, Gaddy, Hal, Daisy!" Dinodas called across the room. "Over here, you three! Sit here and join us!"

[Alkanoonion]

Carl stood alone while Dafodyl talked to Autumn. Carl felt silly holding the bloody squirrel but he did not want to waste the precious meet. Leaving the inn and going back outside Carl proceeded to cut the squirrel up into long strips and opening a pouch strapped to his belt, he removed a parcel of salt and proceeded to cure the meet. With this task complete Carl repacked the now preserved meet into his backpack.

As Carl was turning to go back in to the Floating log he thought he could hear what sounded like howling in the air. Looking about and straining his ears he could not see or hear any more noise.
‘Must be the wind’ thought Carl before returning to the Floating log for a well-deserved beer.

Upon entering the floting log Carl spotted Robin, Dinodas, Dafodyl, Autumn and Giles talking and decided to join them.

Walking up to the table Carl asked
"Mind if I join you for a round?, my treat!"

[Nurumaiel]

"Hello," Dinodas said, smiling broadly at Carl. "Here's one adventurer I haven't met yet. What's your name?"

"Carl," the hobbit replied. "Carl Hoarwell."

"And I'm Dinodas Green, and my friends are Giles Harfoot, Daffodyl Bulger, and Autumn Gamwich."

"And I'm Robin Brandybuck," Robin said, looking at Dinodas and rolling her eyes.

"And we're trying to get three of our friends over here," Dinodas added, then called. "Gaddy, or whoever is in charge of your group, get over here now!"

Autumn giggled while Robin rolled her eyes again, trying to hide a smile.

"Welcome to our table," Giles said, and they all laughed again.

[dragoneyes]

"All right, all right, we're a-coming!" said Hal picking up his Ale and coming over to the table.
"Why're you so desperate to get us over here anyway?" asked Gaddy,
"Oh, I thought it would be better for us to get to know each other. I'm Dinodas Green, this is Giles Harfoot, Autumn Gamwich, Daffodyl Bulger and Carl Hoarwell" he said pointing to each one in turn.
"And I'm Robin Brandybuck" said Robin sighing audiably,
"I'm Halwon Cotton and these two here are Gaddbard Boffin and Daisy Took." There was a chorus of "hello"s as the three sat down.

"I've still got snow down my back from that snowball you threw at me." said Gaddy to Dinodas, who smiled and said,
"I'm just a good shot, that's all."
"I'm really glad there's a fire in here." Gaddy continued,
"The soup's good too," added Hal,
"Our soup back home is getting nearer and nearer water, but we've plenty of bread."
"Nice bread it is aswell!" said Gaddy,
"They're always lending us some, they've got some inexaustable supply of bread somewhere, I'm sure of it."

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[ArwenBaggins]

Daffodyl stared down into her runny, watery soup and said sadly to whomever would listen: "I remember when I was little, Papa would take us down the long road, to this very place. It was always warm, and fun, and the food was delicious. My closest of age brother, Gaberiel, who is 51, would always race me, until..." She looked up and closed her eyes for just a few seconds. "Until he got pneumonia, and couldn't leave the house. He tried to come with me, but he's all skin and bones, and so, so pale. I got to get food for him..." She sighed and looked around.

"Well, on a lighter note, what did all of you like to do before this winter came? I loved camping. And fishing and... well, what about you?" She looked around, with a bit more excitment.

[ December 02, 2002: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

[dragoneyes]

Hal listened to Autumns little speech with sadness, she had obviously been harder off than he had, but he thought about her question, what did he do?
"I've worked for me father since I were about 15, before that I helped look after me younger sisters, and when they got old enough to look after each other I looked after Gaddy,"
"Not that I needed looking after." added Gaddy,
"That's what you say, remember the time you fell over and knocked yerself out? You can't tell me you didn't need help then."

Hal thought back, they'd been playing 'it' in Hal's apple orchard when Gaddy had fallen over and hit his head against a tree. Hal had been worried out of his mind, but he'd plucked up Gaddy out of the grass and got him to the house and called for the doctor.

"I can remember times when I've saved you though," said Gaddy, bringing Hal back to the present with a bump.
"Oh yes? When?" said Hal,
"Like that time when... when... when you..."
"Ha! There, you've never saved me." said Hal triumphantly.

Gaddy searched his memory for a time when he'd helped Hal, he sat for a while, while the conversation around him struck up again and continued on a different track. There had to be something that Gaddy'd done for Hal. He thought for a little longer before,
"A-ha!" everyone stopped and looked at him, "That time with the cart!" Hal looked at him, none the wiser,
"What?" he said,
"That time, 15 years ago, when you were playing around on your father's cart, you fell of, got your head wedged between the cart wheel and the verge, and then the horse started walking forward. Who stopped the cart?" said Gaddy with a small smile on his face.
"You did," admitted Hal "Oh, alright then you've saved me before,"
"Thankyou." said Gaddy with a winning smile.

Robin was surprized that Hal could've forgotten such an event,
"That sounds like quite an ordeal. How did you forget it?"
"The cart knocked him silly." said Gaddy grinning,
"I'll knock you silly!" said Hal having a small mock-fight with Gaddy. They both knew, though, that it didn't matter haw many times one had saved the other, it really only mattered that they were friends.

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

OOC: We had a crossposting. Everyone should see the discussion thread for an explanation how to fix this.

Branda glanced over at the noisy table beside him that was overflowing with hobbits. The snowball fight had broken the ice as they all chattered away without any sign of strain.

He was relieved to note that Carl had skinned his squirrel and salted the meat. At a time like this, even the smallest morsel of food needed to be treated with respect.

The only hobbit absent from the common room was Bullroarer. He'd spoken with Branda about his plans. Then he'd retired to his own room to think on some of the difficulties of the mission.

Branda suggested that Lotho and Emerald join the larger table to talk. The hobbits dragged over an extra bench, so that everyone would cosily fit in. Branda excused himself to Daffodyl for interrupting her conversation, saying he was very sorry, but they needed to decide on their plans for the next day.

He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a map, and set it down for all to see. Branda was slowly getting the hang of mapreading. He'd confessed his ignorance to Emerald and Lotho, and they had helped him.

Branda pounded on the table like a junior Bullroarer to get the hobbits' attention. Then, he raised his flagon for a toast, "To the Shire, and to success on the road!"

There were many sounds of "here, here!" in their own circle and even from other guests who wished them well on the trek.

Encouraged by success, Branda tried a second time, "To the Elves, our friends!"

Branda's own table cheered aplenty at that, but the noise from the other hobbits was not quite so loud. It was not that anyone actually disliked the Elves, just that they seemed quite strange and different. And many there had never seen or spoken with any of the fair folk.

Branda pointed to the map. "Tomorrow, we need to make Whitefurrows, or a little beyond. We must arrive well before nightfall."

Emerald stood up and objected, "But that's barely ten miles. It should be a snap. Can't we go further than that?"

"Sorry Emerald. There's a problem. I expect you're thinking of staying at the "Barking Hound", but I've got some bad news."

Faces around the table fell. Most had indeed anticipated another warm bed, a roaring hearth fire, and a good pint.

Branda sighed, "The Barking Hound was closed last week. The owner's cupboard was bare."

"But couldn't we at least sleep there?" Giles suggested. It would be warmer than camping in the woods."

"I wish we could, but the fellow took his family and cleared out. They've boarded up the Inn. Some say he's gone to stay with his brother in Southfarthing who has more food than he does."

There were groans and moans at this unhappy prospect.

"Tomorrow, we need a group to scout out the road ahead. You'll need to rise early, and get a head start. The road shouldn't be dangerous, since we're still within the Shire, but you've got to set up some kind of sleeping arrangements for us. Persuade a farmer to let us into his stable or haystack, preferably something inside. If anyone knows a family along the East road near Whitefurrows, then you and your group would be perfect for the job."

"I also need another volunteer. Someone who knows how to ice fish, or who'd like to learn. The Water stands less than two miles north of Whitfurrows. If we can arrive there in the late afternoon, we'll go fishing, especially since we'll need to repay the farmer for his help. Even gold seems to have less meaning these days. What talks is something that fills the belly."

"Anyways," Branda explained, "I'll go with someone and catch a batch of fish to feed ourselves, and our host. The scouting party can let the farmer know that. They'll be more likely to take us in."

Giles, ever cautious, looked over at Branda, "But is that a good idea, to have you and another straying off the main road? There's been talk of howling wolves off the main thoroughfair. And the snowdrifts may be piled high."

"Aye, I'm aware, but we have little choice. The river there is good for fishing. I can guarantee you a catch. There's no Inn for us to eat at. In normal times, a farmer would throw open his larder to us, but these times aren't normal. And we mustn't eat up all the extra fish Sandy is carrying. That's for a real pinch. We're not in so badly yet we have to eat all our back-up food."

"So, now, I need a group of hobbits to scout the road and secure a place to sleep, and another person to come fishing with me. Just come forward and tell me. The rest of you, finish your ale and get to bed. We'll be up early."

Just then, the door blew wickedly open, and the Innkeeper came staggering in under a heavy load of fireplace logs. He was completely covered with snow, and grim words came out of his mouth, "It's getting really bad out there. Worse than before."

The hobbits looked at each other and sighed.

"And, by the way, Branda grinned, "Bullroarer said if no one volunteered, he'd be volunteering them, by pulling them out of bed early in the morning!" All of the hobbits groaned again.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Giles Harfoot sprang slightly forward in his chair at the wind's blasting open the door, but kept himself from dashing out into the whirling whorling whitelands. He'd recovered from his first shock of realizing he was off to have an adventure, that sober night of slim soup eaten all alone followed by the finality of packing equipment onto Puddlejump the Pony. He'd withdrawn into himself that other night, hoping that in the morning he'd awake to bacon frying, and blueberry pancakes with butter, and gentle spring drizzle melting into a rainbow and long soft grass beneath his feet instead of harsh, unrelenting ice. *

* He'd even hoped, (though he felt bad about it) that the valiant Bullroarer Took's grand quest was only a fable of old, or indeed, of fantasy. A fable best heard at a picnic under the Party Tree in Midsummer, as fireflies flitted languidly and stars peeked out to glow in a warm haze, not glint like hard cold crystals. But now, surrounded by new friends, warmth and laughter, Giles' love of winter from deep childhood came to the fore. *

I KNOW A FAMILY ALONG THE EAST ROAD NEAR WHITFURROWS, BRANDA !!! ... * Realizing how loud his voice had grown in his enthusiasm, Giles turned beet red. * ... Their name is Harfoot! There are plenty o' Harfoots, in fact! They're my kin!

* Giles jumped to his feet as though he'd just danced the springle-ring, or was just about to launch into dance. * I then volunteer to scout the road ahead tomorrow, Autumn and I. Right Autumn? * He flashed her a disarming smile. * smilies/smile.gif

* Giles bowed with a flourish and sat content. Certainly he'd be accepted as a volunteer. He didn't speak aloud all that was in his mind, however. For one thing, Giles hoped no one had caught the shudder that had run through him at the mention of fish. Fish had twice been his bane and bested him in the past year ... Once, he'd gotten a bad batch of clams, and then there was a catch of perch which hadn't agreed with him. Giles figured that there had to be Some other food-game around, fowl in particular maybe, quail, pheasant, duck, goose. Or even a good rabbit. A deer was too big a feast to hope for, but still he hoped. *

* Giles' other unspoken thought revolved around the boarded up Inn. Surely since the occupants had left The Barking Hound of their own choosing, and surely since need drove the group ... Well, being a carpenter, removing nails from boards was easy as pie. Easier, sadly, since pies were now hard to come by. And those boards ... they could prove useful, maybe. *

[ December 02, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Corrected crossposting:-- Losthuniel's post:

Celandine raised her mug of cider especially high at Branda's toast to the elves. She fidgeted a little, as another lump of snow in her clothing melted. She had tripped and fallen into the snow during the snowball fight, ad as a result, had snow packed down her back.

She shivered as the Innkeeper banged the door open, and announce that ther weather had just gotten worse. Celandine sighed. Not only did she hate the cold, one of her ponies, Cockleshell, detested snow. She winced at the thought of having to fight with her . Cockle was stubborn at the best of times.

The conversation at her table started up again. Everyone was talking about their families, and why they had come along. Many of them had siblings, either sick or young, that they were desperate to get food for.
She didn't really have a noble motivation to come along, aside from her sick Aunt May.
And Anston. She reminded herself he wanted me to go, even if he couldn't himself

Feeling her jaw crack with a huge yawn, Celandine suddenly realized tht they would have a early start tomorrow, whether they were scouting or now. Taking her leave, she winced as she stood up, for the snow around her collar melted, and went trickling down her bac. I suppose I'd better get used to it, she thought wryly. Setting her mug down on the table, she stumbled up the stairs and to her room.

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas found himself staring at Branda as he thought, because Branda was involved in what he was thinking about. He could feel Robin nudging him, but he did not want to speak yet. Glancing out the window, he saw the stars twinkling down on the glistening snow. He stood up, and then felt himself going red as he tried to think of what he should say.

"I'll go icefishing with you," he said simply.

"Good lad," Branda said, smiling at him. "Do you know how?"

"No, sir," Dinodas said, shaking his head. Why were his knees trembling? He had only offered to go icefishing with Branda.

"Bullroarer, what do you say to Dinodas accompanying me?" Branda asked their leader, and the two began to discuss it.

Meanwhile Dinodas turned to Robin and saw she was yawning. "I'm going to bed," she said, smiling sleepily at him. "Good for you in volunteering." She stumbled off to her room.

Dinodas gave a deep sigh and continued to watch Robin go to her room. He could feel the eyes of Branda and Bullroarer on him, waiting for him to turn around, but he didn't want to.

He did.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda grinned over to Dinodas and gave him a thumbs up. Bullroarer shook his head yes in agreement.

Then the two hobbits went together up to Branda's bed so Dinodas could see some of the equipment that he'd be using.

Picks, lines, lures, and hooks. That all looked a little familiar to Dinodas. Perhaps this would turn out alright.

As he was leaving, Branda turned to him, "Make sure to bring some kind of weapon. We don't know what we'll run into."

Dinodas swallowed, and nodded his head.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Alkanoonion's Post:

Carl listened to Branda outline his plan for the next day. Branda seemed to be droning on and on. After so much ale and a hard day on the trail, Carl's mind was drifting in and out. He was in danger of falling asleep.

.... Tomorrow, we need a group to scout out the road ahead. You'll need to rise early, and get a head start. The road shouldn't be dangerous, since we're still within the Shire....

Not paying the best attention Carl was making pictures in the tabletop from a puddle of spilt beer, and he only started to really listen at the mention of "howling wolves."

Carl looked up at Branda and said:
"Before, when I was preserving the squirrel meat outside, I thought that I heard a wolf howling in the distance far from the road, but I dismissed it as the wind. Now I am not so sure."

"Perhaps I should scout for the group tomorrow, going far beyond Whitfurrows down to the River, leaving the road and heading cross country to get a sense of the real dangers that lie ahead. Then I will come back and meet you in Whitefurrows at the end of the day. After all I have my bow and dagger, and I am an expert in the art of hunting and scouting."

As he made his speech Carl was fingering his bow and holding it out for the group to see.

He continued on a bit boastfully, "If any wolves are around tomorrow, I will make myself a nice warm wolf fur cloak. Also scouting ahead, I might have the opportunity to catch some more fresh meet for our host."

---------------------------------------------

Child's post

Branda was scratching his head, uncertain what to do. He knew he and Dinodas would be going to the Water to ice-fish after they reached Whitfurrows. But who should he choose to do the scouting tomorrow morning? Giles and Carl seemed to be making very different proposals.

He slowly got up from the bench. His body ached from the exertion of having walked so many miles through the ice and snow. Now, his brain seemed to be aching too. He shook his head. This kind of decision was beyond him and really belonged to Bullroarer. He decided to go up and talk with Bandobras, hoping that he hadn't fallen asleep yet.

It took him a while to locate the hobbit. He finally found him out in the stables talking to one of his horses, scratching the beast behind the ear, and feeding him a poor withered apple.

At Branda's approach, Bullroarer quickly pulled back and addressed the younger hobbit, "Do you have the name of those scouts for me? Speak up, lad. The cat got your tongue?"

Branda blurted out a bumbling explanation about the offers by Giles and Carl, and how he wasn't sure what to do. Bullroarer sat down on a bale of hay, and thought for a minute. Then he spoke, "These two offers are very different, but maybe that is not such a bad thing. Let's do this."

He started drawing a rough picture in the dirt and sand of the stable floor. He put a large dot where Frogmorton was, another for Whitfurrows, and a third where the Brandywine Bridge stood at the end of their roadway.

First, he pointed to the East Road between Frogmorton and Whitfurrows. "This is where Giles will go in the morning along with Autumn. They'll stick to the roadway and scout out any immediate dangers, and let us know if problems arise. Their main job will be to arrange accomodations in Whitfurrows where we'll spend the night."

"Carl will focus his efforts here." He pointed to the countryside north of the roadway which extended from Whitfurrows down to the Brandywine. "If there are problems to be had with wolves, this is where they'll appear."

"Except for my own steed, he has the fastest pony in the group, and is an experienced tracker and woodsman. He sould be able to make good time, going on his own."

"But there's one thing, you've got to tell him." Bullroarer stuck his nose directly in Branda's poor face. "His job is to scout and stay out of sight. A good scout can get a look at wolves without them seeing him. If I hear for one minute, that he's attracted their attention, or, even worse, attacked them, I will personally break his body in two!"

Branda groaned inwardly. He'd been so proud of his new job as Bullroarer's assistant. Now he would have to carry this difficult message back to Carl. Outwardly, he only nodded and acknowledged Bullroarer's orders and went off to tell Giles and Carl.

Giles seemed quite happy to hear the news, but Carl looked less pleased. Knowing that escape was sometimes the most prudent course to take, Branda quickly ducked out of the way, and retreated to his sleeping quarters to turn in for the night. Down the hall, he thought he could hear the sound of things being hurled against the wall. But he couldn't be certain and wasn't about to check.

[ December 03, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl ducked a flying beer mug, thrown by an unknown hobbit. She yawned, and held her aching head. She anounced to whomever was listening: "I am going to bed. Goodnight!"

She grabbed her small pack, and pushed her way through the crowd of hungry- and some drunken- hobbits. The stairs creaked as she slowly walked up them, with a stream of tired hobbits behind them. The dust on the walls was dusted off while the drunk hobbits stammered to the wall for support.

She found her room at the end of the hall, and put her things behind the door. She saw a small plated with a hard and old biscuit on it. It's all they have, she thought.
She sat on the bed, and ate by the small candle. She stood quickly, and walked with a brisk pace to the window. Outside, the wind and snow beat against the fragile windows. She stared at the snow, but all she could see was white. She sighed, and plopped on the small feather bed. It wasn't as fluffy as it used to be. She sighed, and layed her head down on the almost frozen pillow.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Bullroarer returned slowly from the stables to the Inn where he planned to join the other lads in the common sleeping area. As he trudged across the snowy yard, he could see that the weather seemed to be going from bad to worse. The snowflakes were coming down in thick heavy sheets and the wind blowing so hard that it was difficult for the hobbit to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground.

He shook his head in dismay. It looked likely to snow all night. Bullroarer was gifted in the ways of weather, and could often sense or somehow read the signs to tell what might happen. It was an important gift for a hobbit to have. He'd always had this knack, but now the skill seemed even more critical to the well being of the Shire and his people than ever before.

Bullroarer wasn't sure, but he expected the blizzard to continue all night. If he had to guess, he would have said that it might slacken off a bit at the first rays of dawn. Then wither away to a normal snowfall, or what now passed as 'normal' in this strange long winter.

The problem was that no one could venture out on the road until things slackened down a bit. However much Bullroarer wanted to get to Rivendell quickly, it made no sense to go out into a storm and get lost. Roads had a way of vanishing when thick blankets of snow made it impossible to see.

He'd keep an eye on the weather through the night and, if the snow continued, let the hobbits sleep in an extra hour or two. They had little more than ten miles to cover on the morrow. They could easily make it if they started by mid-morning.

Just don't let it accumulate too deeply on the roadside, he thought. Then he went inside and made his way towards his bed.

[Auriel Haevasawen]

Ragnarok shook the snow from his coat and shuddered. He attempted a few licks of his matted coat and gave up. The air rose in vapourous swirls from his wide mouth, twisted in either grin or grimace. It was hard to tell.

He looked about him in the blue dawn glow, at what remained of his pack and let out a low growl. Slowly they also rose. He nodded a cursory acknowledgement of the alpha female whom he merely tolerated.

Ragnarok cared for himself above all other Wargs but needed his pack. His pack were no more. He fed on the power he had over them as much as he did on the creatures he killed. Only the she-wolf stood up to him. If she had not been female she would have challenged him for leadership. In these unnatural times, she might yet.

The bones of the pups were raised through their pelts. They squeeled to be fed as the snow began to fall again and catch in their fur.

He had tried to howl last night when the snow had eased and the dark world was illuminated for a while by his beloved moon. No cry had come in answer. He gave himself a disconsolate shake.

Another wolf had died in the night. It's body lay frozen on the ground. There were only three adult wargs left. Himself, the she-wolf and one other. He drew in a bad-tempered breath, as if the demise of his pack was an inconvenience.

Ragnarok padded across to the body. It was an old female. Starved and exhausted her frail body had finally given up on their search for food. The others waited on his order. At least they would have breakfast.

[ December 04, 2002: Message edited by: Auriel Haevasawen ]

[Alkanoonion]

Carl woke to the wind and snow hitting the inns bedroom window. Raising to a grumbling stomach or was that the wind? Carl thought as the wind continued its rampage against the glass pain, almost as if it was attempting to gain entry into the room. It was not going to be a pleasant morning for him. Rising out of bed Carl stepped onto the cold floor, Hopping from foot to foot from the cold floor he quickly jumped back onto the bed. Rubbing his cold feet to return the warmth he quickly retrieved a pair of slippers, a new invention for him, before this cold winter he had never warn coverings on his feet but drastic times called for drastic measures.

With his feet now covered Carl walked to the window and looking out at the inns yard he could just make out the snow swirling about, most definitely an unpleasant day thought Carl. Dressing for warmth as well as for protection from the wicked wind Carl made his way to the Common room. On his way out he grabbed his bow a quiver and his trusty dagger.

Entering the common room and finding the innkeeper already up Carl placed his order for breakfast. Sitting down at a bench Carl made quick work of the Porridge that the innkeeper delivered and to wash it all down Carl had a cup of hot tea. Rising from the bench Carl made his way to the stable to prepare his pony from the long day ahead, was getting lite and he needed to leave soon on his way north towards the Brandywine.

With his pony ready Carl made his way out of the inns yard. Once clear of the scanty protection that the inns yard had provided the wind and snow immediately assaulted the young hobbit and his pony forcing them to crouch low, definitely not a good day thought Carl as he made his way north towards the Brandywine.

[ December 03, 2002: Message edited by: Alkanoonion ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* At daybreak, overlapping snowflakes tagging each other in their race to earth was all the eye could see out the frost-laced window. Autumn leaned over her porridge-bowl and mug of tea to giggle, then whisper conspiratorially to Giles. Giles jumped, half-asleep and half-hypnotized by the snow. Autumn giggled louder, looking around to make sure neither Bullroarer nor the Innkeeper were around. Satisfied that no one would overhear, she nodded once and began. *

Giles, I've come up with a trick. See if you like it. We could volunteer to refill the water canteens for everyone and then fill them up with ale. When people ask why the water tastes so strange, we can say that the cold made it taste like that. The poor hobbits, after they drink enough of it, will then become drunk!! smilies/biggrin.gif So, what do you think, Giles?

* Giles yawned and rubbed morning weariness from his eyes. As Autumn's trick idea sank into his sleep-benumbed mind, a smile lit his face and Giles stuffed a knuckle in his mouth to keep from laughing. That gave him just enough time to think better of it. *

Can't have drunken Hobbits staggering off into snowdrifts and freezing to death, endangered on our mission to Rivendell through our joking around. But I wouldn't mind serving water with a harmless secret ingredient ... pepper, maybe. Or, or ... here's another idea, Autumn! smilies/smile.gif

* Giles's eyes glinted as he whispered mischievously to Autumn. Then he called for the Innkeeper. * May I have some pepper, please? And salt too, if you've any to spare.

* The Innkeeper plunked down tin containers of salt and pepper on the board before them. * Take as much as you want, though there's no eggs or bacon to season, and your porridge-bowls are empty.

* Giles handed the full containers of salt and pepper to Autumn. Walking to another table, he helped himself to a second set of full salt and pepper tins which he stashed away in his trouser pockets. *

* Then at last the two scouts and their ponies were underway. The wind and blowing snow were so fierce that Giles was glad of his black hawthorn whacking stick to steady him, his trousers styled long down to his ankles after the Mannish fashion, and his thick brown wool cloak and hood. *

* The snow was easily waist deep in patchy drifts blown across the road, so from time to time Giles cleared a path for Autumn with his small shovel. The path remained in place just long enough for her to pass before the wind filled it up with snow again, leaving no trace of their passage. So on they trudged, mile after mile, into the unchanging white ahead bordered by the buried shadowy-blue shapes of trees left and right. *

[ December 03, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Bullroarer rose at dawn and peered out the window. As he had guessed last night, the sheets of swirling snow were just now beginning to blow less violently. It would take another two hours before such a large group of hobbits could safely find its way down the road.

At least the roadway itself didn't seem to be totally obstructed. The wind had blown most of the snow into tall banks along the side. It was still possible to push their way through the middle, although they might have to slow up here and there to plough through particularly heavy drifts that came far up their legs.. As soon as the blizzard let up enough for them to see more clearly, they'd need to get started.

The scouts had already taken their leave from the inn. Bullroarer hadn't been pleased to see them going out in such horrid weather. But, with the scouts, there was little choice. They needed to get a head start or they'd never make it back in time.

Bullroarer decided to let the rest of the hobbits sleep another hour and then wake them for breakfast and a hasty departure. Food and adequate rest could become increasingly rare as the trip progressed. Might as well take advantage of an extra hour of sleep while it was still available.

He went down to the common room to speak with the Innkeeper. Bacon and eggs were no longer on the menu, but at least there was still a plentiful supply of thin porridge and hot tea. He placed an order for the entire company, and paid for it out of his own pocket. Bullroarer was known for his temper and stubborn will, but he was also reputed to be a most generous patron. In the rooms off the hallway, it was possible to hear the noise of waking hobbits, both the grumpy and cheerful, as they struggled out of bed and made ready for the day.

[ December 04, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas slowly opened his eyes and looked around the room. There was a faint light shining onto the other sleeping hobbit lads. The sun's first rays were beginning to shine through the window, right into Dinodas's eyes.

He climbed out of bed and stumbled to the door, yawning and rubbing his eyes. As he opened the door, he could smell bacon frying, and he could see that Bullroarer was already awake. With a sleepy, "Good morning," he moved to sit at the table.

He then saw that there was only porridge for breakfast, and he realized that the bacon was only a scent of the past.

[ December 04, 2002: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy sat up from her bed and couldn’t believe how cold she was. It was early morning and looking out the window she could see that the snow was coming down a little lighter now, but still heavier and swirling around in the wind more than she would have liked to be going to walk in. It was like looking into white nothingness until Daisy noticed the trees around the inn. Their lifeless, leafless limbs looked like they were reaching for sunlight and warmth that were not to be found. It made the whole area around the inn look very scary and uninviting.

The gray sunless sky made Daisy feel like staying at the inn and staying warm, but she thought of all the other hobbits she traveled with and all those at home counting on her to get to Rivendell and get food. It also gave her the feeling of foreboding, but she didn’t know why. She shrugged her shoulders and decided to get dressed and go downstairs and get some breakfast if possible.

Daisy left her room and made her way down the stairs, which creaked with each step she took. She thought it’s a good thing I’m not trying to sneak up on someone. Once downstairs she looked around to see some of the other hobbits already there and talking amongst themselves. There was a small fire going in the dining area and she rushed over to feel the warmth. She saw Bullroarer and went over to him. “Morning to you” she said to Bullroarer. “It is positively awful outside” she added. Bullroarer did not reply as he seemed to have something on his mind.

Daisy went and sat down at one of the tables and waited for Hal and Gaddy to come down and sit with her. She hoped that the guys could give this lifeless dreary place a little pep while they were waiting to leave for Whitfurrows.

[ December 04, 2002: Message edited by: Calenedheliel ]

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer tightened his belt as he sat down to breakfast. A small bowl of porridge with a thin drizzle of last summer's meager honey, and a weak cup of tea, from leaves which had seen too much water. He passed up offers of seconds from the serving girl, saying that she was to see to the wants of the other Hobbits first.

He had been up early, long before the wan sunlight had pierced the flying snow on the eastern horizon. Wrapping his thick hooded cloak about him, he had gone to the stables to help the stablehand feed and water the horses and ponies. They had stood there discussing the back wheel on his wagon and how old Mungo had found a way to make it steadier and more road worthy. 'Should make it see them Elves at least.' commented the silver haired blacksmith.

Having finished mucking out several stalls, and freshening up the scant hay in the rack, he leaned on his pitchfork looking out at the pattern of the wind driven snow. His own breath trailed out in great foggy spirals, joining the dancing flakes. He saw both the advance scout parties leave for their destinations from his vantage point in the chill stable.

He was hoping against hope that Carl would find no sign of Wargs, and that the howling he had heard last night was only some trick of the wind. Giles and Autumn he was depending upon to make sure the road ahead was clear and that there would be shelter from the cold and storms for them this coming night.

When he was done seeing to the horses, there was an already noticeable lightening in the sky and a lessening of snow in the persistent wind. Perhaps, with some nod of good fortune their way, it would be clear for most of their trek to Whitfurrows. He frowned slightly, thinking of that town - he had forgotten to ask Giles whether his relatives lived this side of it or further east. They should have made firmer plans to meet up with Giles and Autumn at some predetermined point. He frowned again, wondering if Giles and Carl had spoken.

He strode back to the Inn, and stood at the entry way to the Common Room, stamping his feet to knock most of the drifted snow from them and the bottom of his breeches. The warm air of the room hit him as he walked through the door, and he pulled off his cloak quickly, hanging it up on a peg by the door.

The company was up, though many did not appear as if sleep had come easy to them. Only two days out, and the grim needs of the cold and hungry Shire were beginning to be felt. He sighed deeply, sizing up the strengths and weaknesses of his companions. then, putting a cheerful face on, he strode from table to table greeting each by name, a pat on the back here, a touch on the shoulder there.

The old campaigner rallied his troops and soon had them up, donning their cloaks and shouldering their packs. 'We're only going a short distance today.' he told them, wrapping his own cloak about him. 'We'll rest easy in Whitfurrows tonight, then on the morrow we will strike out on a longer leg of the journey. To the Brandywine river and across the bridge and ten miles beyond, if we can make it. Then in two days time from that we can travel past the Barrow Downs in daylight, and pushing it, come near to Bree.

There were mutterings and dark looks at the mention of the Barrow Downs. But Bullroarer gave them no time to complain. He led them quickly out of the Inn and to the stable to pick up their horses and ponies. Then down the road they went, each step kicking up eddies of snow along the way. He led the troop in his wagon, its great iron-banded wheels making ruts in the snowy road for Hobbit feet. And when one or another grew tired or too cold, he invited them up to ride in the back of the wagon for a while, where they could snuggle beneath the piles of burlap bags and warm up.

[ December 04, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[dragoneyes]

Hal trudged along, "this is not a good way to start the morning" he thought. Hal had been the last person to get up that morning and so had only had a quick breakfast, he was grateful for the rest he'd got though, looking around, not everyone had been as lucky as him.

Hal soon found himself wishing for the warmth and comfort of the inn, his feet were frozen and numb. The view was white, white as far as the eye could see, Hal looked down at his feet and stumbled on.

"I-I'm f-f-freezing" said a shivering Gaddy beside him. Gaddy was up to his knees in snow, even though he was swaddled in his thick cloak his lips were still blue and he was dropping behind, they were already at the back of the group.
"Do you want to go up with Bullroarer on his cart?" asked Daisy, seeing Gaddy's cold face.
"Y-yes p-please." he said trying not to shiver and giving Daisy a small smile.

"Hey Bullroarer!" called Hal, "We've got another one for your cart!"
"Bring them up here then!" Bullroarer called back. Hal plucked up Gaddy out of the snow and carried him up to the front of the group where Bullroarer was, he placed Gaddy down on the back of the cart while it was trundling along. Gaddy immediately seemed to get some of his usual life back and delved under the bags and supplies, burying himself so only his face showed.
"Just don't lose yourself in there." said Hal,
"I'll try not to." said Gaddy smiling his usual cheeky little smile, his face already regaining some of it's colour.

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy looked at Gaddy in the back of the cart and decided that she was just to cold to keep walking, so she climbed up into the cart. Gaddy moved over to make room for her. She sat down and started to cover up when her hand brushed up against something. It was long and hard like a stick but felt slimy and gooey. Daisy didn’t want to look at it so she just moved away from it and didn’t say anything to Gaddy about it.

After covering up, Daisy looked around the surrounding area. There were a few bare trees bending violently with the hard blowing wind. The farm houses in the out lying areas could barely be seen as they were covered by huge snow drifts. The only signs of life seemed to be that of their own. Nothing was moving, and it made the whole place very eerie. At the same time Daisy’s hair on the back of her neck was standing up but she couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was all those stories she had heard at the inn about wargs being heard and seen in the Shire. She just had a feeling that they were being watched as they trudged along the road to Whitfurrows.

Daisy was feeling a little warmer and decided that it was time to give someone else the chance to get in the cart and warm up. She looked out at the group and saw that Robin and Daffodyl were looking a bit on the frozen side. She motioned Gaddy to get down at the same time that she did, and then they helped the two female hobbits up onto the cart. Instantly Daisy wished that she could have stayed in her uncle’s cart. Her feet hit the snow and all of the cold went right to her bones again, but she knew that everyone needed to spend a little time huddled in the back of the cart if they were going to make it to Rivendell.

[Child of the 7th Age]

OOC: Will erase later. Alk, please put your post after mine. Don't return to the group yet. Just describe what you see on the road. We need a bit more time for folk to respond t the threat below.
---------------------------------------------

They had been pushing on for several hours, but had only managed to cover about four miles. Several times, the wagon slid sideways into one of the tall snowbanks, and had to be dug out by cold and tired hobbits who used whatever tools they happened to have brought along in their packs.

Bandobras berated himself for not taking more shovels with him. The three that he'd brought from home were not going to be enough. Perhaps, they'd manage to find some to buy in one of the villages along their route.

By mid-afternoon they'd managed to cover another few miles. If all went well, they should manage to reach Whitfurrows before nightfall, and still have time to send that fishing party north to the Water. Bullroarer hoped that their scouts were doing as well.

"Let's break for lunch," Bullroarer cried over the howl of the wind. "Start a fire over there." He pointed towards a spot underneath a protected cliff overhang. Several in the party ran to get a large tarp out of the wagon to hang it down from one side of the small ledge so that there'd be more protection from the snow and blustering gusts.

Emerald, Gaddy, and Daffodyl volunteered to collect some branches to start a fire. The three wandered off in the direction of a small wooded area that stood about 200 paces north of the road. After they'd been gone about ten minutes, Bullroarer noted with some nervousness that their weapons had all been left behind, neatly stacked under the cliff overhang.

The hobbit shook his head in dismay. He'd have to talk to everyone about that. There should be no going off from the main group without making sure to bring weapons. You never knew what might happen.

Hobbits began rummaging through their sacks to find something they could put together for lunch. But before anyone could get very far, a horrible noise issued from the direction of the wooded copse.

"What's that", Branda blurted out.

"It's howling. Maybe the wargs have come." Dinadas ventured wih fear in his eyes.

Bullroarer turned to face the group. "Whatever it is, we need to find out, and fast. Grab your weapons. Now!"

Bullroarer took off at a dead run in the direction of the hideous sounds. The howling and barking seemed to grow louder every second, as the hobbit's legs pounded back and forth on the ground. Most of the company followed just behind. Branda had managed to mount Sandy but the horse was having trouble maintaining balance on the slick ice crusts.

Just as they reached the tall trees, Bullroarer peered ahead and stared aghast at the scene before him. At least there were no wargs to be seen. Instead, there was a pack of some ten to twelve dogs surrounding the three woodgatherers. They had made a tight circle, drawing in closer and closer. Once, these may have been ordinary farmdogs, but they had turned wild and, were now driven only by hunger. They smelled the scent of fresh food, and hungered almost to starvation, they surrounded their prey, eager to pounce.

Bullroarer turned to those behind him, "Now, attack, come forward. Or our companions will die!"

[piosenniel]

It made no difference that these had once been good, working farm dogs. They were now wild, savage beasts who lived by their strength and cunning. Even as Bullroarer was rushing in amongst them, clearing a swath with his thick cudgel, the dogs split into groups and began to separate the woodgatherers one from the other, herding them away from their defenders.

Nearest to the advancing line of armed Hobbits were the Gaddy and then Daffodyl, both being harried and having legs bitten by the three dogs each that now attacked them.

Emerald, her eyes wide with horror and her arms still clutching the firewood she had gathered, was pushed the farthest from the defenders, and they heard her screams as the dogs bore her down . . .

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Alkanoonion]

The Inn yard slowly gave way to frozen landscape, as Carl and his pony made their way North towards the Brandywine. The snow on the road by now was waist deep in places and the wind was sapping what strength he and his pony had. After an hour of travelling in the wind and snow, which had abated only slightly, Carl and his pony sought shelter against a larger tree.

Taking out his canteen Carl went to drink but soon discovered that the water had frozen solid in the cold. Remembering a trick that his father had taught him Carl leaned down and grabbed a handful of snow and put it in his mouth letting the warmth from his mouth melt the snow so that he could drink. Looking about Carl studied his surroundings.

To his left was a dense frozen forest, which looked like it had been created out of some madman’s dreams. Carl did not know how to describe what he saw except that it looked like the trees were trying to escape from the wind and snow, flailing there branches madly from side to side only to entangle together leaving themselves trapped, so that now they could only shudder with the torture placed on their limbs.

Not very inviting thought Carl. Looking to his right the trees looked a little better as the trees seemed to invite Carl and his pony to take shelter. Once more mounting his pony the pair left the road seeking the shelter of these trees. The snow was less deep and the frozen trees provided a Modicum of protection from the cutting effect of the wind and ice on his raw face. The wind and snow was also less built up which made travel for his pony easier. Heading north through the day Carl continued to study the landscape taking in all details and looking for signs of and Wargs or wolves.

By now the snow had dissipated and the pair only had to worry about the cold wind which while not a gale was still terribly chilling. With out the gale and snow the pair made good time and by midday they had almost reached the Brandywine.
They were heading into the wind when Carls pony shed to the left and started to tremble. In the distance a wolf’s sorrowful howl could be herd. Getting off his pony, Carl tied her to a tree stump and laying a comforting hand on her nose he slowly made his way upwind.

Slowly drawing his bow from across his back he preceded to nock an arrow, but being mindful of the warning he had received, he made sure that he would not be seen. Carl was an expert at tracking and so it was no effort for him to locate the source of the noise.
It was a sorrowful creature that he found, a female wolf that had been trapped in a snare and abandoned by its pack. She had half chewed her leg off to get out of the snare and would shortly die. Feeling his stomach tighten with pity Carl slowly approached the wolf. She could see him, but she did not struggle.
As Carl approach the trapped animal, he felt himself compelled to seek out the creatures gaze. To stare into a wild creatures eye was to issue a challenge, a way of seeking superiority over it. However, when Carl looked deep into the amber depths of this beauty he only received a weak grow of protest before the creature resigned itself to the mans actions. She returned his look bravely.

He could see her struggle to match his look and keep her eyes open. She was tired. Tired from the cold and the pain, but beneath the fatigue was something else. It was something that touched Carl more than the presence of the blood and crippling injury. Within her eyes was not just the physical pain but also the pain of knowing that her pack has deserted her. Not just her pack, but also her life long mate and the children they had reared and cared for. She knew she was going to die all alone.
As Carl looked into her amber eyes he knew this Knowledge to be true, for Carl was drawing this knowledge not only from the instincts of a compassionate being but from the knowledge all forest creatures drew from, instinct.
Carl was instinctively a creature of the forest. He had to be. It was how he survived. It was what he was brought up to be and how he lived. This was what he was taught by his father and from his fathers father and he hoped that one day he would be able to teach this knowledge to his own children. With these thoughts fixed in his mind Carl knew what he had to do.
She did not fight or resist him, for Carl believed she knew what he was going to do. She looked at him with a silent pleading that was heart breaking for it was not a desperate plea but a dignified one, as to be release from a terrible pain. There was also a grain of hope. To die at the hands of another being was to not die alone. With a tear in his eye Carl took aim with his bow and put the majestic and tragic animal to rest.

Still weeping for the brave animal Carl started the preparation of burring the animal. He wished he could lite a fire to soften the frozen ground but he knew this would betray his presence in the woods. Rather he berried her beneath the ice knowing too well that the body would be scratch out by scavengers, but he could not stop himself. He felt empathy for the poor animal, admired her. She had been a wolf, not the evil Wargs but a forest wolf. They were different for they were the true hunters. Not only had Carls family learned from them, but so had Carl; he had studied them for many a long hour when he had been a boy, to learn the Wild arts. This was way, despite the uselessness of the task Carl continued to burry her. It was his way of paying respect.

Having done all that he could for the she wolf, Carl returned to his pony. He noticed that it had grown late he made for the accommodations in Whitfurrows.

To report no sing of danger from the north except a dead wolf. Racing back to the Whitfurrows Carl did not hear the howls that followed him.

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl shot a quick glance to Emerald, who was knocked to the ground. She tried to yell her name, but the wind overtook her voice.

"Help! Help Emerald! Help us!" She yelled at the group, whom she could barely see through the strengthening snow. They were almost just shadows in the snow.

Her legs were starting to hurt badly with the scratching and biting at them. She kicked at the dogs, and one took a deep bite into her foot. She screamed with pain. She took the sticks out of her arms and started to poke the dogs ferociously, towards their eyes and throats. One retreated with a few teeth knocked out. The other two let out a deep growl in their throats.

"Please! Bullroarer! Branda! Hal! Gaddy! Dinodas! HELP!" She hit the top of one of the dog’s heads, who had jumped at her face. Its claws ripped between her eyes, and her face went hot with pain. Another dog bit into almost the same spot on her foot as the first one, and she bit her lip until it bled. I do not wish to die like this, she thought to herself, as she yelled for help from the other hobbits.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda clung tenaciously to the back of his pony as she haltingly made her way over to the copse, slipping and sliding on the treacherous ice crusts. By the time they'd reached the clearing, Bullroarer and the others were already thrusting boldly at their attackers.

Branda's first thought was to try and maneuver his pony towards the fallen Emerald and carry her off to the protection of the wagon. There, he could examine her and see if there was anything he could do. But there was no way he could get through the circle of howling dogs that stood directly in his path.

He jerked the reins sideways and veered over in Daffodyl's direction. The girl had only two large beasts slavering over her. Both had fixed their teeth in her clothing, and were slowly tugging her downward to the ice.

Sensing and smelling the approach of the pony, the two dogs backed off their original target and turned about to face this new threat. They immediately took the offensive, darting in and out, slashing and snarling at Sandy's hocks.

The pony's ears went flat back. A simple carthorse, she was both bewildered and enraged at the animals' attacks. Of her own accord, she reared up, her eyes wide with terror and nostrils distended. Kicking out with two hind legs, Sandy sent one of the dogs flying through the air, coming to land on a jagged rock that stood up above the snowline. The creature lay still and did not move.

Almost immediately, in the middle of this melee, the hobbit found himself bucked off Sandy's back, hitting the ground with a thump and rolling over beside Daffodyl. In their momentary rage over the pony, the dogs had forgotten their main target and left the girl unguarded. Branda swiftly scooped her up in his arms and raced off towards the wagon, half carrying and half dragging Daffodyl over the rugged terrain.

Out of the corner of his eye, Branda caught a glimpse of several things. First, there was his pony, flailing and kicking, then runing back to the shelter of their temporary campsite. With the dogs' mad dash after Sandy, the pathway to Emerald had magically cleared. Lotho had run forward to help the girl and was already carrying her to safety.

In response to the rescues, Bullroarer bellowed, "After them! Someone help Gaddy. And don't let any get away. Otherwise, they'll be attacking some poor farmer's daughter by nightfall."

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Lotho had been frozen with shock, and jerked back to his senses at Branda's frantic yells. He swiftly drew out his knife and raced towards Emerald. He could hear a dog snuffling at his feet; he felt its hot breath on his ankle. He furiously whipped around and slashed at the dog, which fell back with a whimper.

Emerald was lying face down in the snow.

Lotho let out a strangled yell and quicly turned her over. Her face was a greenish colour; drained of blood. He hoisted her up over his shoulders and tried to run as fast as he could: he didn't know where...just a place where they could be safe.

Blood roared in his ears and his throat was dry. He was starting to tire.. wait! There was the road! He forced himself to go on and gently lay the young hobbit beside it. He jerked as he suddenly remembered the sound of a pleading voice- a female voice. The image of a distressed young hobbit came into his mind.

Daffodyl! He had left her! He couldn't go back now. He hoped against hope that one of the others had managed to rescue her. Heart pounding madly, he looked at the hobbit lying absolutely still. He laid an ear to her mouth, and was very slightly reassured to hear faint breathing. He could do nothing more but wait for the attack to cease and for the rest of the party to regroup.

[dragoneyes]

Gaddy fought against the three dogs now surrounding him. The dogs had pounced so quickly, there had been no time to react. Luckily Gaddy had managed to keep hold of a nice long stick and he was trying to fend the dogs off with it.

One dog advanced on him and Gaddy hit it hard on the nose, it retreated but Gaddy still had no rest another dog behind him lashed out at him and caught him round the leg. He just had time to turn and hit that one when the third had it's go at him, it took several swipes to deter it.

Gaddy was tired and scared, his legs were numb with cold and pain, he was deaf to the others' calls. He was twisting and turning, this way and that, trying to anticipate what the dogs were going to do next.

He was becoming thoroughly exhausted, with barely enough energy to dodge the dog's attacks.

Suddenly one of the dogs yelped and jumped, it turned and was faced with one oncoming stone, it's aim was true and killed the dog in an instant. Gaddy stood dazed an confused at this dog's behaviour when one of the other dogs pounced on him, pinning him to the ground. The dog snarled at him but then fell limp.

Gaddy was underneath the dog, and he just lay there, too tired to do anything about it, he let the dog's dead body warm him. His mind wandered back to his home where his mother, father and all his family were welcoming him back, the warm sun was out and the fields were green, the trees gently rustling their leaves in the wind.

The dog's weight was lifted from Gaddy's body, he looked up and there was Hal's worried face, Gaddy looked into Hal's eyes and smiled weakly.

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda momentarily collapsed in a heap of exhaustion after reaching the roadway, with the hobbit Daffodyl still in his arms. Lotho had made the site first and was trying to lift Emerald out of the snow and cold into the only shelter they had, that of the wagon. In the distance, Branda could see a tired and limping Gaddy leaning against his friend Hal, trotting away from the dog pack as quickly as they could manage. The other hobbits were with Bullroarer, fighting off the still crazed beasts.

Branda took a moment to gasp for air, and then helped Lotho lift Emerald and Daisy into the wagon. Hal arrived just a minute later, vehemently insisting he was fine. Branda imperiously brandished a finger in Hal's face, sternly warning him to get into the wagon to be checked out and that, since he was a healer, he'd be the judge of just how fine Hal was!

[ December 05, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer called to mind the image of Golfimbul, the Orc King, at the Battle of the Greenfields. A likeness of Golfimbul's face replaced the snouts and bared teeth of the ravening dogs.

An air of calmness settled about him, and he pushed forward through the mad and slavering canine throng, swinging his club with deadly precision. Bloodied heads went flying, almost as in a game . . .

[Nurumaiel]

Robin heard screams through the blinding snow. She could not see anything except blurry shapes moving. She could barely hear Dinodas shouting something, probably to her. She fumbled around at her back, trying to find her quiver, but it was still with Gil-Galad. Scrambling around, shouting, she tried to find the pony, and suddenly her hand brushed against something furry. But it wasn't Gil-Galad. She heard a snarl and then felt a burning pain in her hand. She cried out and jumped back, tripping and landing in the snow, which turned red with blood. Trying to fight the pain, she shouted weakly for help, but no answer came.

Dinodas fit an arrow to his bow. He spotted a dark shape moving towards him and heard a snarling. Quick as a flash, he let the arrow fly, and with satisfaction heard a yelp and saw the figure collapse in the snow.

There was a growling directly behind him. He picked up his club where he had laid it next to him and whirled around, swing down at the same time. There was a thud and the figure behind him dropped. Seeing more of the vicious dogs advancing, he tossed his club aside and once again turned to his bow. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and took careful aim. Yet when he fired, the arrow missed.

"I had better be careful," he muttered, drawing another arrow. "An arrow gone astray could hurt an ally."

Soon he found himself run out of arrows, but still the dogs were coming. So he turned to where his club was. The only problem was that it wasn't. With a cry he fell to his knees and started digging frantically in the snow, searching in vain. He heard a movement behind him and he whirled around, preparing for an attack. A shadowy shape sprang at him and he felt something furry and wet land on top of him, and could feel warm breath go down his neck. There was a growling noise in his ear as he rolled over, but the shape fell off him, springing up again at once for another attack.

Robin heard a noise in her ear and felt something breathing on her. To weak to cry out, she slowly turned and found herself face to face with Gil-Galad. "Gil," she whispered, reaching her good arm up to stroke his nose. "Go to Dinodas, please. Go/"

Gil began making his way through the deep snow, every so often turning back to make sure his mistress was still there. Then he vanished in the whirling blizzard, and all went black for Robin.

Dinodas jumped to his feet and kicked at the dog, trying to discourage it and make it move away. But he only succeeded in infuriating it more. It was hungry and it wanted food. There was food in front of its face, and it would not let its prey go so easily.

Dinodas heard a whinny close by, and shouted, "Gil!" When the pony came into view the dog spotted him and began jumping at his legs, snarling. He began spooking and jumped to one side. He reared and the dog moved forward. Dinodas watched in half horror as Gil's hard hooves landed on the dog's head. It wasn't a very pleasant site.

When Gil realized the vicious creature was dead, he proceeded on with his business, coming over to Dinodas. The hobbit lad spotted Robin's bow and quiver and unhooked them from the saddlebag, flipping an arrow from the quiver as he did so. Fitting it to his own bow, he prepared for another attack of dogs.

But they never came. Perhaps they had all been killed, perhaps they had all run away, or perhaps they were attacking the other members of the group. Returning the arrow to its quiver, Dinodas looked around for Robin, but did not see her. Gil-Galad was trotting the best he could in the deep snow away. Dinodas could still hear the screams, and suddenly he was presented with the choice of either going to Robin or helping the rest of the company. He chose the latter.

Robin rolled onto her back and opened her eyes very slowly. The blizzard was whistling over her head, and she was half buried in the snow. Gil was standing over her. Hadn't he gone to Dinodas with the bow? A faint smile touched her lips. He had. Both the bow and quiver were gone.

Robin was so numb that she didn't feel the pain in her arm. Desperately she tried to get to her feet and mount Gil-Galad, but she only managed to struggle to her knees, and that small feat left her panting for breath. "Gil, you're too tall for me now," she said hoarsely. "I can't get that high."

Gil almost seemed to understand her, for, if you'll believe it, he suddenly bent his legs and went down. Robin stared in amazement for a moment, then dragged herself towards the pony. She had to find help or she'd die from cold. She was also losing much blood from her wound. Grasping his mane in her good hand, she slowly heaved herself onto his back and into a riding position among all the baggage. Ever so slowly, he came to his feet, Robin clinging to his mane and desperately hoping he wouldn't slip on the snow while trying to stand up. Then he was standing fully. He began walking through the snow towards the rest of the company, and Robin fell forward onto his neck.

Dinodas could hear something tramping through the snow behind him as he made his way towards the figures fighting in front of him. He whirled around, and saw a large shape walking towards him. As the shape drew closer Dinodas realized it was Gil. And then he saw what the pony was carrying.

"Robin!" he cried, running forward. He gently lifted the hobbit lass off her pony and saw her arm.

"Hello, Dinodas," Robin said weakly, a smile coming to her pale face.

"Don't you dare die, Robin Brandybuck," Dinodas said, still holding her in his arms.

"I'm not going to die, Dinodas," Robin said. "Not yet. They still need me back home. They're expecting the food." Then her head fell back.

"She's still alive," Dinodas whispered to himself. "We need a healer. Who was it? Branda? Branda! BRANDA!" He began screaming the name as he struggled towards the company, holding the limp hobbit lass in his arms.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn trugded on through the deep snow on the road. She was freezing and she could barely feel her legs. Pulling on the rope that tied her and Giles together, they had been afraid that they would loose one another during the snow storm , so they had tied a rope around their legs, attaching one another together, Autumn sank down to the ground.

When Giles walked back to her, he saw Autumn sitting curled up on top of a pile of snow. Her legs were covered with snow, her lips were blue, and her teeth were chattering loudly. "Do you think that we could stop for a bit, Giles, to warm up and all?" asked a frozen Autumn. Giles nodded, and so the two hobbits gathered wood, and built a small fire.

Sice their water canteens were empty, they put some snow in a pan and melted it by the fire. Then they poured the water into their canteens. Taking some bread from their packs, Giles and Autumn ate a light, hurried meal. The hobbits then packed on and made their way once again through the deep snow on the ground. Snow began to fall once again, and Autumn pulled her thickest winter coat further around her.

After another mile or so, Autumn wanted to ask Giles if they could stop once again. But, she wanted to appear brave enough to continue on without complaining. Biting her lip, Autumn continued to trudge on, so intent on where she was going that she did not hear the howls of dogs far behind her, and the screaming of scared hobbits.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda scrambled frantically to try and tend to all the injured hobbits. He had no idea what was happening with Bullroarer and the others who were still out fighting the dogs. His attention was rivetted to those who lay before him.

Branda quickly acknowledged that there was no way he could handle four wounded hobbits totally by himself. He'd asked Dinodas to come join him and tend to those less seriously hurt. Having someone to do the simple bandaging, and even to bring food and water to the wounded, was a tremendous help.

Gaddy was indeed in the best shape, with only a few minor leg wounds. Robin and Daffodyl had more serious cuts and slashes, both on their bodies and faces. Robin also seemed to be in a shocked and dazed state. Yet, even here, with a little luck and a good rest, Branda was fairly certain both girls would pull through.

It was Emerald who most worried him. He spent the lion's share of his time with her. The girl had lost so much blood that she was as pale as the snows of winter, her body as cold as the ground on which she lay. She had grievous wounds on her body and head.

At Branda's direction, Dinodas built a blazing fire under the ledge of the cliff, hanging additional tarps to hold out the most bitter weather. Then, the Stoor took some of his most precious herb, called Kingsfoil or athelas, crushing and boiling its leaves with the snow water. He applied this tincture to the wounds of the hobbits, and decided to place their bodies close to the campfire, since it was warmer there than in the wagon. He wrapped Emerald in several blankets, and placed hot stones, also sealed inside a thin leather pouch near her body in an effort to drive the chill away.

There was no question that they would have to stay here for the night. The scouts who'd gone ahead would have no idea what had happened to the main party. That was unfortunate. But to push on at this moment would mean certain death for Emerald, as well as to increase the risk for Robin and even Daffodyl. No matter what Carl, or Giles, or Autumn thought, they did not dare to leave immediately.

Branda feared that tonight would be the critical point for Emerald, the time that would decide whether the girl lived or died. He felt a shudder run through his body as he looked upon her sweet young face. My own daughter Peony will look like this one day. Let my hands be skilled to save her and return her safe to her kin.

[piosenniel]

Of the twelve dogs, there were now nine still bodies sprawled on the snow. Gaddy had dispatched one with his stone, and Dinodas two with his bow and club. Sandy and Gil, the two doughty ponies, had taken out one each with their hooves. Bullroarer had brought down four of the mad beasts with his now bloodied club.

He called for the Hobbits to retreat toward Branda. The three remaining dogs followed desperately behind them, hoping to bring down just one of them. Bullroarer, bringing up the rear of the retreat, took his club and advanced upon the pursuers. They darted in at his legs, slashing them with their teeth, but their bite found no purchase as he stepped away from them deftly and swung his club down hard.

Two more lay dead on the now reddened snow. And now a tired Hobbit faced a tired dog made desperate by the loss of its pack and prey. With nothing to lose, it threw itself again and again against the now retreating Hobbit. With on last leap, it launched itself into the air, straight at the face of Bullroarer.

He stepped aside, though not quickly enough to elude the furred missile entirely. It caught him on the left shoulder blade, burying its teeth deep into the folds of the Hobbit's cloak and throwing him backward onto the ground. The large thick fingers of Bullroarer wound their way about the creature's throat, and he heard the gurgle as he crushed its windpipe and the snap as he broke its neck.

Pushing the limp body of his assailant from him, he lay back on the snow, breathing raggedly. 'An even dozen dead!' he thought to himself. Then darkness took him . . .

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl awoke lying on her back next to the warm fire. Gaddy sat closest to her, and Hal was sitting next to him. Gaddy had Emerald beside him. "They all survived, but where are the others?" she said to herself.

Her face hurt severely, where the massive beast had scratched her. She painfully sat up. She had cuts all over her arms and legs, and most of them were still bleeding. Her foot had a simple bandage around it, but spots of it were soaked in the blood that was seeping through. She looked at Emerald, who was bundled up completely very near to the fire. Her face was as white as the snow they were sitting on. She could see that Emerald’s lower jaw was shaking, but not very quickly. ‘At least she is still alive,’ she thought.

She looked around, and saw Branda walk back in from under the tarp. "Oh bless you Dafodyl! You’re awake!" He yelled with excitement as her approached her. "That was a mighty encounter with those dogs that you had. Bullroarer and the rest are on their was here now. Get some rest."

He started to gently push her down, but she blurted out, "What about Emerald?" She looked sadly to him.

He sighed, and said slowly: "Well, I am going to try to heal her, but I do not know if it is to late or not. We can only hope for the best."

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

[Nurumaiel]

"I'm going to need help," Branda muttered to himself. He turned to where Dinodas was kneeling next to Robin. "Dinodas, lad! Do you have any healing skills?"

Dinodas looked up. "Some, sir," he said. "I can clean and bandage a wound well enough, and I can learn more, besides taking orders willingly."

"I'll need you to help me, then."

The hobbit lad's face took on a strange look, like he was being torn in two. "Oh, Branda, sir, I would indeed wish to help, but I may be needed elsewhere with my bow."

Branda smiled gently at him. "I think the worst of the battle is over," he said. "These hobbits need your help more than anyone right now."

"Yes, sir," Dinodas said, setting his jaw. "What can I do first?"

Daffodyl looked down at her leg. The blood was still coming through the bandage, at it was starting to hurt. Now that she had been warmed up and was no longer numb all over, pain returned to her.

"Hello, Daffodyl," said Dinodas. "I guess I'd better change that bandage on your leg." He unwound the old bandage, soaked with blood, and tossed it aside. Then he cleaned the wound out carefully and bandaged it up. "Hurt?" he asked softly.

Daffodyl nodded. "But I don't mind. I'm worried about Emerald."

"Me too," Dinodas said, and he looked over at the seriously hurt hobbit lass. "I hope she comes through."

"I hope so too," Daffodyl said. "Branda is worried about her."

Dinodas wanted to say, "He should be," but he didn't want to frighten Daffodyl. The chances of Emerald living were very slim, and Daffodyl didn't need to hear that right now. So instead he just said softly, "I've known miracles to happen," and began bandaging Daffodyl's arms.

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Lotho sat back dully. He didn't have the strength to shiver. He didn't like to show or tell anyone of his unusual lack of strength. He was thin and light, hardly strong like the rest of the hobbits and brought up to be a businessman, not a farmer. He had used a lot of energy bringing Emerald over here and for what? The poor lass didn't look as if she was going to survive. Lotho secretly knew it in his heart, but didn't wish to voice his opinion. The last thing they needed was for more of these young 'uns to lose heart and even pass away themselves.

He looked at Daffodyl. She was a typical young hobbit; full of hope that Emerald would survive. He just managed to stop himself from snorting with derision and closed his eyes as fatigue swept over him. Waves of irresistible sleep broke over him and he drifted into a light sleep.

[Losthuniel]

OOC: I'm backtrcking a bit, FYI.
---------------------------------------

Celandine shivered inside her cloaks. The air was cold, and the going slow. Many hobbits were having trouble withthe snow, knee deep in drifts and hampered by heavy clothing. Celandine was mounted on Catcher, and leading her other pony, Cockleshell. Catcher was fascinated by the snow, and kept sticking his nose in it and snuffling around.Celandine smiled through the cold. Very little could dampen Catcher's spirits. Cockleshell, however, was a very different matter. She kept tugging on her lead rein,and prancing about upset and even more unpleasant than usual.Celandine looked down at the other hobbits, wading through the snow. Perhaps I should offer one of them a rideShe thought.

"Let's break for lunch," Bullroarer cried over the howl of the wind. "Start a fire over there." As hobbits rushed for the tarps, Emerald, Gaddy and Daffodyl went to get wood for a fire.

Celandine swung down, wincing as her frozen toes connected solidly with the ground.

She froze, as a terrible howling reached her ears.
What's that", Branda blurted out.

"It's howling. Maybe the wargs have come." Dinadas ventured wih fear in his eyes.

Bullroarer turned to face the group. "Whatever it is, we need to find out, and fast. Grab your weapons. Now!"

Celandine hurried to comply, and grabbed her bow, hurrying to string it as she hopped along after the others.

She gasped, as she saw the predicament. The three wood gatherers were surrounded by a pack of snarling, slavering dogs.

Following her first instinct, Celandine shimmied up a tree,partly to make sure she herself did not get injured, and partly to get a better vantage point for shooting.

The tree was completly stripped of leaves, and it made climing easier. She swore as a large splinter decided to take up residence in her palm. But at least it wasn't her shooting hand.

She nocked an arrow to her bow, and watched carfully as a target presented itself. The pain in her hand made her aim unsteady, but the arrow did not miss altogether. it struck the beast in the shoulder.
Celandine fired arrow after arrow. Some found their mark, some went wide. All the while, the splinter was digging deeper and deeper into her palm.

Celandine reached for an arrow, but found she had used them all up. the hobbits were rushing back to the road, and Celandine very nearly fell out of the tree, and ran after them.

She stumbled back into camp, and was shocked to see Emerald, Daffodyl, Robin and Gaddy all wounded. Celandine, overtaken by exhaustion, curled up by the fire and fell asleep

[dragoneyes]

Gaddy watched the hobbits come into the makeshift shelter one by one, some of them fell asleep, some of them sat, looking tired and worried. Gaddy couldn't bring himself to look at Emerald, only her face was showing but it was deathly pale, Gaddy couldn't do with that now.

Gaddy's own legs were covered in blood, he seeming to be the least injured, the cut were many but they were shallow and only on his legs, unlike Daffodyl who had a nasty scratch on her face and Robin who's arm seemed to have her hand bandaged up.

Dinodas came over to see Gaddy now,
"Hello Gaddy, I'll be seeing to your cuts while we stop here." Gaddy just smiled back and nodded, too tired to do anything else.
"Why don't you lie down?" said Hal who was sitting next to Gaddy. Gaddy nodded and allowed Hal to help him lie down, Hal's strong grip was reassuring and he folded up his jacket and placed it under Gaddy's head.

Dinodas began cleaning Gaddy's various scratches, cuts and bruises, carefully bandaging each one. Gaddy relaxed and looked around for something to take his mind off the dull throbbing in his legs.

Laying next to him was Daffodyl and next to her was Robin, Dinodas was busy out of Gaddy's sight. Hal was sitting next to Gaddy and beyond him Branda was tending to Emerald. Away in the corner was Lotho and curled up asleep next to the fire was Celandine with Daisy sitting next to her. Gaddy looked around again, someone was missing, who was it? Gaddy tried hard to get his sleepy brain to work. He sat up quickly and looked around again, he counted everyone frantically, there were only ten of them there Hal was looking at Gaddy confused, then it suddenly clicked,
"Where's Bullroarer?" he blurted out.

"Don't worry Gaddy, he's just gone outside to check on the ponies, don't get yourself so worked up about nothing." said Hal soothingly, pushing Gaddy back down.
"You're sure about that?"
"Yes, now get some rest, you're in no condition to be worrying about other hobbits, leave that to me." Gaddy had meant to protest more but sleep took over his body so soon he had no time to think about anything more.

Hal looked on his young friend, he hated lying to him like that, but he didn't have a choice, Gaddy needed his rest. Hal shook his head, there was more pressing bussiness to attend to, he stood up,
"Everyone." he said. Looking around he could see how tired all the other hobbits were, "Bullroarer has not returned, I am going out to look for him." with that, and with no heed to any of the others' protests
he grabbed his cloak and walked out from under the shelter into the biting wind.

"Bullroarer! Brandobras! Where are you?" he yelled into the wind. He searched on stumbling back towards the place where the dogs had first attacked. He was sure in his direstion and he saw a dead dog, lying next to it, on his back was Bullroarer, Gazing into the sky.

"Bullroarer!" cried Hal joyously, he ran up to Bullroarer and knelt down next to him, "I've found you at last!" Hal looked at Bullroarer lying in the snow, "Are you alright to walk?"
"Should be." he said with a vague smile.
"Come on then." said Hal, slowly Helping Bullroarer up.

They started walking slowly together, a little too slowly.
"You should've brought someone else along with you, we could be moving a lot quicker."
"I know, but they were all so tired." Bullroarer strove on but Hal could see that it was hurting him. He stumbled and would've fallen had Hal not been there so Hal decided to get him to the camp quicker because he was shivering and cold to the touch.

They started moving faster, but Bullroarer couldn't keep up. Hal ended up half dragging, half lifting Bullroarer back to the shelter.

They finally made it back, they were met by Branda who had a blanket, he threw it over Bullroarer and together, Branda and Hal carried him inside and lay him on the ground.

[ December 07, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[ December 07, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[piosenniel]

‘It’s cold.’ he thought. ‘Or it should be, I suppose.’ He looked up at the grey skies and felt the hard ground beneath him. The snowy crust he lay on had melted and its wetness began to seep through his cloak and clothes. His left shoulder ached where the dog’s body had hit him, and a sharp pain coursed through it as he tried to move now. He gasped, trying desperately to sit up. His head throbbed from the impact it had endured when he fell.

‘No use!’ he murmured to himself, his eyes fluttering closed, as he laid back down. ‘I’ll just lie here, for just a moment . . . I’m so tired . . . so very tired . . .’

************************************************** ********

It seemed a long time he lay there. Then came the words from somewhere above him. 'I know that voice.' he said, forcing his eyes to open and focus on the Hobbit which had now knelt down beside him.

'Hal! That's who it is!

The trip back to where Branda and the other Hobbits were was a painful one. His head ached, and a sharp pain shot through his left shoulder with each step. Helped into the wagon, his eyes fell on the still form of Emerald and he gasped when he saw her still, white form, barely breathing.

'No!' he cried.

His last thoughts, as he felt himself tucked into the shelter of the wagon, were that he must tell Branda just to stabilize his collarbone with his belt.

Then darkness took him once again . . .

[ December 07, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Auriel Haevasawen]

Their muzzles were stained darkly from their feed and stood out in stark contrast with the monochrome world that surrounded them. The hunger of the Wargs had been abated for the present.

Nimue, the young she-wolf ran her tongue across her gore stained lips and looked at Ragarok. The falling snow camouflaged him well as it caught in his coat and the wind forced his thick fur to move in waves. He shook a heavy head, whether in dispair or more likely discomfort at the snow, there was no telling. There was nothing left for them in their own lands.

The young wolves, their blood-spattered state at odds with their almost downy coats, frolicked about Nimue for a few moments enjoying full stomachs for the first time in several days. Their energy soon wained and they lay around her; panting.

The other wolf wandered away from them. Not so far as to become detatched from all that remained of a once flourishing pack but far enough to let Ragnarok know that something was amiss.

Daylight had long since broken through the cloud and the snow began to ease. The wind never ceased. Ragnarok looked up into the sky and growled to himself. He barked sharply at them. It was time to move.

Their territory may be empty of food but he knew of other places where, at high risk, it could still be obtained. He was going to leave. If the others followed, so be it. If they died along the way with him, it would spare him from hunting. He had alerted them of his departure and he expected to be obeyed.

He shook the snow off his shoulders, raised his head and sought a scent upon the wind. He nodded to himself, resigned to whatever the endless Winter had in store for him. Ragnarok turned away from the other Wargs and began to tread silently through the snow in search of prey.

[Alkanoonion]

Racing back to the Whitfurrows Carl hoped that he could find signs of Giles and Autumn. If not he would find the rest of the party and continue the journey with them, after all Giles and Autumn where skilled trackers and could take care of themselves.

Carl was feeling pensive; the events of the day had been a shocking reminder to Carl that life was short and always surprising. Looking about his surroundings Carl kept his bow nocked with an arrow, ready for any Wargs or game that crossed his path. Looking about Carl saw some new tracs in the snow. They were fresh. As fresh as the still falling snow. Dismounting his pony Carl tied her to a tree branch and proceeded to investigate.

The tracks looked to be only minutes old and looked canine in origin but the snow had partially covered them up so Carl was unsure. Gripping his bow Carl looked around studying his surrounding. Immediately in front was the road to Whitfurrow, Still partially covered with snow and debris from the storm that swept through the night before. There was no sign of life. To his right was the dense frozen nightmare forest, which he had passed before on his way north. To his left the trees looked more inviting, offering Carl and his pony shelter for the night if they needed. He wished he could take advantage of the inviting spot, but he still had much to do. Forcing his wiry body to rise from the stiff crouch he had used to examine the snow Carl commenced with a thorough examination of the surrounding area.

Following the tracks Carl could see that it was a lone beast perhaps the Wolfs mate who he had humanly dispatched with before. He tried to follow the tracks but the soft falling crystals soon swallowed them up. As the tracks slowly disappeared so did the suspicion that Carls was mistaken. Those tracks were leading Carl southward, towards Whitfurrow. This could only mean bad news. Running back to his pony Carl gathered up his belongings and quickly made for Whitfurrow. If it was as the tracks had suggested a wolf, it was being draw towards the settlement. In these hard times only one thing would attract a wolf towards an inhabited settlement. Wolves did not go towards settlements unless drawn by great need or food, and even then only at night. It was still daylight, too early for a wild creature to risk discovery. It had to be something powerful to draw a fully-grown and experience wolf into the town. There was only one force strong enough, that Carl knew of which would do this. Fresh blood.

Racing back Carl could no longer find traces of the tracks, now fully concealed by the cold snow. He did not need them. He now knew were he must go, and he prayed that he was wrong in what he expected to find once he got there.

…………………………………………….

He had been wrong! The wolf had bypassed Whitefurrow. Carl continued on travelling back to rejoin the party of hobbits. Despite the hour and the snow falling around them, Carl Spurring his pony on to greater speed. It was getting late. Carl hoped he would find them soon.

Fatigue was setting in; Carl had spent the night searching for the party. As dawn chased away the last lingering affects of the snow and of the darkness an erri calm settled over the land.

Dismounting his pony Carl fell to the ground as fatigue finally overcame his resolve to continue. Forcing himself to raise Carl noticed under his nose a fresh set of Wolf tracks; in his stupor he had stumbled across the tracks of the same wolf he had tried to track the previous evening. Although tired, Carl felt a thrill of excitement run through his feeble body, energising him. He needed to continue tracking the wolf.

Carl could see him. A gaunt starving beast that looked to be on its last legs, relying only on instinct to kept it going. The wolf looked to be circling something but not stopping to find out Carl Drew his Bow and let fly with a shaft striking the Wolf cleanly and dropping it. Carl ran up to the dropped Wolf and finished it off with his dagger. He would have left the carcass but his need for food was just as great so picking up the carcass Carl laid it over his pony’s back. Cal could now see what the Wolf was after. The ground was littered with the blood of a wild Dog. Its carcasses lay nearby half frozen in the snow.

Rising Carl investigated the area. From the look of it their had been a battle. This battel looked to have been a fierce one. The snow was littered with more evidence of blood. Carl suspected that the blood was not just that of the dog’s. There was just too much of it. Reading the evidence upon the snow Carl could distinguish that more than one dog, and many Hobbit prints were all jumbled together, as if each being had competed with the other to destroy each other’s foot print. The only word that came to mind as Carl explored this jumble was ‘chaos’.

‘What has happen here?’

Leading away from the scene were cart tracks. Curious and fearful of what he might find Carl continued to track the snow, but now it was the marks of a cart he followed and not that of a wild animal.

It was early morning when Carl was about 4 miles from Whitfurrows. In the distance Carl could hear the sound of hobbits crying and he could see a temporary shelter.

[ December 07, 2002: Message edited by: Alkanoonion ]

[ February 14, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda crouched by the campfire, tightly hedged in between the other hobbits, taking a bite to eat and letting his thoughts drift lazily over the events of the day. It was the first time he'd gotten a rest in many, many hours. He was eating a cup of fish stew that Daisy had brewed up from some of the provisions that Stoney had carried. With all they'd been through, they at least needed to eat a good hot supper.

When Hal had first brought in the cold and sleepy Bullroarer, Branda had quickly seen from his patient's grimace of pain that his collar bone needed to be stabilised to make sure it would heal properly. Branda had finished with that, and then concentrated on using wraps and heated stones to bring life and warmth back into Bullroarer's chilled body. Now, the massive hobbit snored contentedly beside the fire, his face relaxed and his color gradually returning.

Thank goodness that Bandobras was built more like an ox than a normal hobbit! Anyone else who'd been out in that bitter cold for such a long time would probably not have survived. His strength and resilience had somehow brought him through. Branda suspected they'd need even more of that in the days to come.

With Bandobras temporarily unable to act as the leader, Branda had taken on that responsibility himself, although relying heavily on the advice and counsel of the others in the band. Hal and Lotho and Dinodas had proven especially helpful. They were only about three or four miles from Whitfurrows, but there was no possibility of going on that night. They'd have to see tomorrow how the others were doing, before they made any other decisions.

Hopefully, by the morning, Bullroarer would have recovered enough to be back in the lead, even if he'd have to be a bit more careful with that broken collar bone. Gaddy, and Daffodyl and Robin were weak, but all doing much better. As long as their wounds healed cleanly, they should be just fine in a day or two.

Gaddy might be up and about tomorrow, and could probably ride one of the ponies. Robin and Daffodyl were probably safer in the wagon, but could continue their journey down the road, especially if the weather held, with no further surprises or snowstorms. More disturbing was the fate of Emerald. Her condition had changed little since she'd first been brought to the shelter.

There was little conversation over supper, with most hobbits falling asleep shortly after the first star appeared in the sky. Hal agreed to take the first watch, tending the fires to keep them going, and making sure there were no unwanted guests. He sat just outside the tarp, clutching a large stone and coming in to warm his hands and drink some hot tea every now and again, then going out again. They rotated the watch, with Celandine and Daisy taking the later rounds.

Branda sat up alone with Emerald, searching vainly for some way to pull the girl from the jaws of death. For the hundredth time, he felt her forehead and listened to her heartbeat. He had tried herb after herb, but even the athelas seemed to do little to help.

Hour after hour passed with no visible change. It was the deepest part of the night. Branda was sitting up and half dozing, when a strange voice inside his head urged him to awaken. He looked over to check on Emerald. The girl lay, still and small, her face as white as the nearby snowdrifts because of her loss of blood. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide. They glittered bright, like the stars above, clear and piercing. There was no confusion or uncertainty in them.

Branda cradled her body in his arms and leaned over to listen. "I am going now," Emerald whispered. Tell my family I love them." The words came harder now. "I'm not sorry for having done this. Tell the others.....the best way of remembering me is to find Rivendell and save our people. Give me your word, Branda, you'll do that."

"I promise, Emerald. I swear to you we'll get through." Branda squeezed Emerald's hand in reassurance.

He saw she had closed her eyes. She had a look of peace and contentment. He heard a few breaths come jagged and hard, and then they halted. Branda lowered her limp body gently back onto the ground and covered her with a blanket. Then he sat alone and cried a very long time. No reason to wake the others till morning. There was nothing anyone could do.

When he'd wiped away his tears, Branda lay down next to Emerald's still form and went to sleep. He dreamed of a hobbit girl, a lass with a curly head who was awake and alert and running across a field, with a determined smile on her face. Sometimes the girl in his dreams looked and sounded like Emerald, and sometimes she looked a lot like his own little daughter Peony whom he'd kissed goodbye just the day before.

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

Giles was not happy with having one of his legs tied to one of Autumn's so they wouldn't get lost. No, not happy at all.

Autumn stood as tall as her shortness permitted, hands on hips. "Look here, Giles. No dog, wolf, warg, not even a dragon, will see us nor smell us in this mess of snow!"

The whiteout from the snow was so bad that the trees at the side of the road vanished into dazzling blindness. Only a white void hemmed you in, in every direction. A shivering wind brought clumps of snow from unseen overhanging branches crashing down on top of their hooded heads.

Giles nodded glumly, frowning. He'd tied them together, but secretly fingered the hilt of a knife in his pocket. At the first sign of an enemy, that rope was getting cut. No matter what.

When they stopped to rest around a sputtering fire and meal of pan-fried bread and water, Giles untied the rope with fingers red and raw from the cold. He'd had quite enough togetherness, thank you very much. Though not a creature was in sight, he feared getting tangled up defenseless in a ropeful of snapping warg jowls. "The wind is less now, Autumn. And I'm too much of a gentle-hobbit to run away and abandon you if wolves come. If I need to fight, I need to be able to move freely."

At last they bumped into a mailbox. Giles walked into the pole, causing the snow to fall away from the top and sides of the mailbox. The pole underneath remained buried in its forlorn snowdrift. His hands throbbing like icicles about to break off, Giles used his cloak to brush away snow from the nameplate. "Sandheaver. Hmph, they should change their name to Snowheaver in this weather! But Autumn, we've reached Whitfurrows! My cousins live two holes away!" Giles flung his arms up in the air and did a few dance steps until he slipped on a patch of ice.

"Should I throw you a rope?" smiled Autumn.

"Yes. You should," smiled Giles.

Autumn tossed him the end of the rope. Giles grabbed it, and pulled Autumn down into the snow. Both Hobbits laughed.

[ December 07, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy was taking her turn at standing watch and it was snowing again. It was very cold and lonely outside the makeshift camp. She couldn’t stop thinking about the attack this afternoon. What had happened had frightened her senseless for a while, but mostly it made her feel useless. She tried to help fight the dogs with her slingshot but it didn’t seem to help at all. The dogs just kept attacking Emerald, Daffodyl, Robin, and Gaddy. It was the bloodiest and most violent thing she had every seen. When it was finally over, many of the hobbits were hurt and all of the dogs were dead. Knowing that they were dead didn’t make Daisy feel and safer or less scared. She hadn’t even noticed that Bullroarer was missing until Hal brought him into camp. He was hurt pretty badly but it looked like he would be okay.

She got up from her post and went inside to warm up for a few minutes. She noticed Branda looking at Emerald very intently. The tears in his eyes told the whole story. Emerald was gone. Not knowing what to do Daisy went back outside to continue her watch. She looked out at the black moonless night with tears running down her face feeling guilty for not being able to do more during the attack. She thought about how it could have been any of them or all of them if there had been enough dogs attacking, which made her shudder with fear. “How would the rest of the hobbits take the news of Emerald’s passing?” she thought. It was going to devastate everyone.

She was tired but wasn’t sure that she would be able to sleep because she couldn’t keep the images of the attack out of her mind. She decided when it was time she would go in and lay down next to Gaddy. She hoped that he could forgive her for not being able to help him earlier. She almost lost him before she really gotten to know him better. She thought she was going to die when she saw him being attacked. He was here now and safe and if she had her way she would find a better way to help in the protection of the group. It would mean fashioning some new type of weapon and she would talk to Bullroarer about it as soon as he was well enough.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Carl stood at the entrance to the temporary shelter, looking about with dismay. When he had volunteered to act as a scout, he'd assumed that, if there was danger or death, he'd be the one facing it, not the main party of hobbits. But it was clear that what happened here was much harsher than anything he'd seen on the road.

Branda had taken Emerald's body, gently wrapping it in a blanket. There was a very large wooden container attached to the back of the wagon that was sometimes used to haul extra supplies. He'd cleaned that out and placed the body inside the open chest. It was so cold outside that there was no need to think of any other means of preservation.

Carl walked over to pay his respects to Emerald. How young she looked! It seemed so unfair. He glanced over at Branda who was securing extra ropes on the chest, and said in a sad voice. "Maybe I should have stayed here, instead of going off to scout. My skill with weapons might have made a difference."

The Stoor placed his hand on Carl's shoulder and shook his head. "Don't say that. You did what you were asked to do. No one could read the future. Just look at Bullroarer. He's the best fighter we have, and he's lying inside injured."

"Do all the hobbits know yet?" Carl asked.

"The ones who've woken, yes, but some are still sleeping. Especially those who were bitten by the dogs."

Carl sighed, "My scouting report can wait till later. There wasn't anything so urgent that we need to talk about it now." Branda shook his head in agreement.

"What do you think we should do now?" Carl questioned.

"It's Bullroarer who should decide. Not me. But I do think we could travel, even starting off at mid-day. Everyone's well enough to move the few miles down the road to Whitfurrows. If we're lucky, we'll find shelter in a hobbit hole. That would be no small thing."

"Plus Dinodas and I still need to go fishing in the Water after we get there. Whether or not we like it, life goes on, and we need to find food if we're going to survive."

Branda started to walk away, but then turned back to add one more thing. "You know, Carl, when Emerald died, she was very peaceful. She only had two things to say. She wanted to tell her family she loved them, and she begged me to promise we'd make it to Rivendell. I promised, and I don't break a promise like that. I'm going to get through if I have to go all alone on foot. I swear I will."

Carl looked at him and shook his head in agreement, "So will I, Branda, so will I."

By mid-morning, the tale of that promise had spread round to every hobbit in the camp.

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Midday . . . Bullroarer sat up, his head still pounding, and took stock of what had happened. The dogs were dead; he was sure of that. He hunched forward, thinking to stretch the tight muscles in his back causing a sharp pain to course through his left shoulder.

‘Nice job!’ he murmured to himself as his right hand found the splint Branda had improvised to keep his shoulder stabilized. His fingers probed the area of his collar bone, and he winced when he pushed on the bump where the bone had fractured. The swelling didn’t indicate a complete break and he thanked his lucky stars for that. He would mend soon and easily provided there was no more insult to the bone.

His head continued to pound, and he got himself up, thinking to find some willow-bark tea to quiet it. He stood gingerly and walked toward where the group stood, huddled about a small fire for warmth. Their faces were pale, and drawn, and on many cheeks were the frozen tracks of tears. ‘Think, Bullroarer!’ he said to himself. ‘What has happened?’ He looked at the gathered companions, noting that the two scouts were still gone. But, one other of the Hobbits who should have been there was missing. ‘Emerald!’ A brief remembrance of her lying in the wagon, being tended by Branda, came to him. A flash of understanding came to him. He gasped at it.

Branda turned, seeing him up now, a look of concern on his face. ‘Are you hurting, Bullroarer?’ he asked, coming up to him, a look of concern on his face.

The Took’s face was somber, and he shook his head ‘no’. Drawing Branda aside, he asked what had been done with Emerald’s body. He nodded as Branda told him of her passing and of her dying thoughts. Taking Branda’s arm, he walked with him back to the small fire, and called for the companions’ attention.

‘I have just learned that our friend, Emerald Burrows, has died.’ This simple statement drew the looks of all those gathered. ‘I will miss her further companionship on this journey and her no nonsense spirit.’ He paused for a moment, looking hard at the small flames of the fire as they blazed bravely against the cold. He looked about those gathered, holding each gaze with his.

‘We will take a few moments to remember her in our thoughts and say good-bye, and then we will press on as she wished us to do.’ A look of great sadness passed across his features, as he stood there, head bowed.

Some few moments passed, then he bent to the ground, picking up a handful of snow and earth and flung it on the fire saying softly, ‘Farewell.’ When all the others had done the same, the fire put out, he gathered the ones who were too weak to walk and put them in the wagon.

Slowly they trudged the few miles down the road to Whitfurrows . . .

[ December 08, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Losthuniel]

Celandine sobbed into her hands,tears freezing even as they were born. She felt very small and alone. She and Emerald had been put together, under the care of Branda. They hadn't gotten to know each other very well, but the hobbit lass still felt Emerald's passing acutley.

After waking up to be met by Branda's grim face, Bullroarer injured, and Emerald's passing, Celandine had crumpled into a sobbing heap. Many others did the same, as they too awoketo the grim news.

Celandine felt very alone. Even though she and Emerald had not been close, another female presence had been comforting, trudging along behind Branda in the snow. Celadine, with the exeption of her cousin, had always been very shy with anyone of the Male persuasion.

Wiping her near-solid tears, Celandine rummaged through her pack. She regretted the cold winter, for there were no flowers with which to honour Emerald. Digging through her pack for her mittens, a little yellow flower fell into her lap. Celandine smiled through her tears. Anston knew she wsa going to go along, and had slipped her namesake into her pack, to bring her luck. The flower was dried, and slightly crushed from being in her pack, but it was something.

Creakily getting to her feet, Celandine shuffled through the snow, and quietly laid the single blossom on Emerald's breast. She bowed her head in sorrow, as icy tears dropped onto the white snow.

[dragoneyes]

Gaddy was riding Daisy's pony so as to not take up any more space in the wagon, he was very stiff and he ached, his arms, his legs, and his heart. He had never experienced someone dying before. Hal walked next to him, with his warm hand on Gaddy's foot, Gaddy was glad he had someone whom he knew with him.

Hal was staring at the ground, bleary eyed all that he could see was the white world, so pure, and yet so deadly. His train of thought moved onto Emerald's last words and the promise Branda had made to her on behalf of the entire group, then it went onto the scouts who had gone ahead, they still had to be told and Hal sincerely hoped that he wasn't the one to have to tell them.

[ December 21, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl sat quietly in the wagon, with her pony trotting beside. Her face was cold and frozen with tears. She felt the gash across her face, and looked at her bandaged foot, and swallowed hard.

She sat next to Robin in the wagon and said sadly to her: "I got out with an injured foot and a gash on my face, and Emerald didn’t get out alive. I am so lucky. I wish I had never left my little brother Gabe. I love him, and I know that he may not be there when I get back, if I come back." Robin patted her back with a slight reassuring smile. More slow tears dripped and froze on Dafodyl’s face, and she dug herself into the supplies on the wagon deeper, to try to warm her limp and frozen body.

[Thengise Greenleaf of Mirkwood]

Nimue slowly lifted herself up off of the cold snow upon hearing of their leave. She was filled with new energy, for the dead Warg had provided her with food she had not eaten in the longest of time. The small pups ran around her as she shook the snow from her blood-stained coat.

She looked out at the territory around them. It was but an empty land, bare of any food which they would need. It had been a deadly winter for the Wargs so far. At times Nimue would wonder how long they would last. She gave a downcast look at the pups.

They would not survive if they were to stay, yet perhaps they could provide them with the food they needed to get through their journey. After all, not all of the pups were hers. Some were those of Wargs who had already died, which meant they had weakness in their blood and would hardly be able to contribute to the pack. The only help thay could give was to feed the adults and her own pups.

Nimue called to the pups and to the other Warg as she began to follow Ragnarok in what would be a dangerous path. Still she knew it would provide them with the efficient food they needed.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Giles and Autumn were safe and warm inside the hole of Giles' cousin Fredegar, his wife Appleblossom, their four children, and Grandma Harfoot. Just outside the hole, flapping in the breeze high atop a pole above the snowbanks, flew a triangular red banner from a party pavillion. Giles thought the banner just the thing to let Bullroarer Took and the rest of his company know where shelter was. *

* Giles had bit back tears on seeing how thin and weak Grandma Harfoot looked, but everyone's joy on seeing each other overcame all else. Fredegar had shown Giles and Autumn where the stable was for the comfort of their pack ponies, so their foor-footed companions were fed and watered, as well as brushed and combed when the snow melted off their manes. The Hobbits then shared half a baked potato each for supper, each with half a pat of butter. *

Food is on its way, * Giles reassured his kin, * Not as much as when we come back from Rivendell, but soon there'll be fish on your table ... you're welcome to my portion of fish. And being a carpenter what's learned Dwarven lore, I'll make you a fine steel rabbit trap. Hopefully we'll catch one for stewing before I leave.

* Giles had gotten up from his table to poke his head out the door every ten minutes to see where the rest of the company was. Finally, as Autumn helped Appleblossom and a daughter clean the dishes, the jostling clatter of a wagon could be heard. Autumn dropped her towel on a table, and joined Giles to run out waving and smiling to greet the group. *

* Everyone aboard the wagon was subdued. That was when Giles noticed the box hanging slightly over the wagon's edge at the back, firmly tied down. * Where's Emerald?

[ December 09, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer took Giles and Autumn aside, as Branda got the other Hobbits situated. He spoke to them in a low voice, explaining what had befallen the company. Autumn gasped at learning that Emerald had died. 'We are not even to the bounds of the Shire and already one of us lies dead! It cannot be!'

'It is so.' said Bullroarer. 'and I fear that there will be even greater dangers to beset us once we travel into more open country.'

Branda got the survivors situated in Fredegar's cozy home, while Bullroarer and the two scouts talked, and delegated the more sturdy of them to bring in food and other supplies from the wagons. Soon there was a good, thick stew simmering on the hob and the companions were beginning to regain their former color and relax a little. Once they had their bellies full, most of them sought out a place to bed down and crawled under covers to seek pleasant dreams.

Bullroarer sat by the dying embers of the fire with Giles and Fredegar and smoked a pipeful. Two of Fredegar's older sons had agreed to take Emerald's body back to her family along with a long note of condolence from Bullroarer. He agreed that they would receive a small sum of money for this unpleasant task and a place to stay at the Took House while they were there. Mrs. Took would also receive a note from him directing her to share a portion of their foods and supplies with the two boys to bring back to their family.

That somber business being done, they discussed what they would do tomorrow once the Hobbits were well rested. Branda could organize a fishing party, and Giles and a number of assistants could build that rabbit trap. Bullroarer himself would go out with Fredegar and put out some lines for hare and perhaps a few nets for birds.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, until the last embers of the fire had gone out. Then, yawning widely, they bade each other good-night and went to seek their rest.

[ December 10, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Nurumaiel]

Robin sat quietly in a chair, holding her bandaged arm and gazing into the flickering fire. Many of the others had already gone to bed, though some were still awake; yet Robin showed no signs of leaving the fire.

Dinodas watched her worriedly from across the room. She had been like that all day: not saying a word to anyone, just being lost in her own little world, looking as though she would never come out of it.

She's taking Emerald's death hard, I think, Dinodas thought. But, then again, aren't we all?

He stood up and walked over behind Robin’s chair, and laid a hand no her shoulder. She made no move. “Robin,” he said softly, sitting down next to her. “I know you’re taking Emerald’s death hard, but you’re starting to get me worried. You hardly took a bite at supper today.”

Robin did not answer.

“Please, Robin, say something,” Dinodas begged. “I’m more worried than you can imagine.”

Robin turned her face to Dinodas, and he saw that it was sad, but not sorrowful. She looked like… well… like he had always imagined the Elves looking like as their time to leave Middle-earth drew near.

“I feel so strange,” Robin said quietly, so the others in the room wouldn’t hear. “I can’t cry because I can’t believe Emerald is gone. I know she is, but I don’t know at the same time. I can’t explain how I feel, Dinodas.”

She turned away, and he looked at her gently. The more he looked at her, the more he thought of his sister, and of Emerald. Tears came to his eyes, and he hurriedly brushed them away, ashamed of almost crying with Bullroarer in the room. A quick glance at Bullroarer told him the great hobbit was looking at him, and his look almost seemed to say, “I know, Dinodas. I feel the same.”

Robin suddenly turned back to him, and her face was strange. “I know now,” she whispered. “She is gone.” And then she flung her arms around Dinodas’ neck and cried into his shoulder.

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl sat in a small wooden chair near the fireplace, trying to catch a little warmth. She yawned and closed her eyes, getting deep mental pictures of her quiet hobbit-hole. She opened her eyes and jumped when she heard Robin collapse with emotion on Dinodas’ shoulder. ‘She’s taking Emerald's death really hard,’ she said to herself.

Another sleepy yawn overtook her, and as she stood, little chair creaked. She stretched her weak hands over her head, and rubbed her eyes. "Goodnight Dinodas, Robin, Bullroarer." She smiled, and walked to one of the small bed like cots in a black and quiet corner.

She reached into her pack, and found the brush that her Father had traded off of someone at a tavern many a year before. The shining purple handle was now rusting and faded. She silently brushed her brown curls. With a deep sigh and a long look at the group, she laid her head down on the ground, and was quickly into a light but pleasant sleep.

[Child of the 7th Age]

The soft light of the sun was beginning to filter through the window as Branda awoke to begin his day. A few of the hobbits were stirring, while others slept on, pulling pillows and blankets over their heads to shut out the noises and sights of the morning.

Just outside the farmhouse, in the direction of the shed, Branda heard a cock crowing to herald the arrival of the new day. Yesterday, after they first arrived, he thought he'd heard the sound of hens scratching about to find a place to roost. Perhaps there were actually live chickens on the farm, and they might even get an egg or two. That would be close to a miracle. Branda couldn't remember the last time he'd seen eggs or a rasher of bacon. Best not get your hopes up, he thought.

Carl was already up and dressed. He slipped over towards Branda and knelt down beside the bed. "I found out something." he whispered, "Tomorrow is Daisy's birthday. She didn't want to tell anyone. She felt funny about it with all the sadness over Emerald. Should we do something, or just let it pass with everything that's happened?"

Branda thought a minute and then responded, "To my way of thinking, we'll never get through to Rivendell unless we get folk's spirits up. The grieving isn't going away in a day or two or even a month. Butwe've got to learn to do our grieving and our living at the same time. I'd say a quiet celebration wouldn't be a bad thing for tomorrow night before we leave."

"First make sure it's alright with Bullroarer. Then tell the farmer and see if he'll give us an egg or two to go towards a cake. I've got a little flour on Sandy's back, and you're welcome to use that. See if anyone wants to be in charge of pulling a special meal together."

"What will you do today?" Carl asked.

"Dinodas promised he'd go fishing with me. I should have gotten an earlier start, but I was just so tired. Anyways, I'm getting my lines and lures and axes together. Want to come along with us?"

Carl shook his head yes. "When are you heading out?"

"Soon after breakfast." Branda explained, "Let the others know then. They're welcome to come along. It's just two miles north of here. Have everyone carry a weapon, plus some strings and buckets to bring our catch back. If some of the others want to come, they can meet us down by the river as long as they come in groups of twos."

"One other thing. If Bullroarer approves, you'll want to tell the others about the special meal tomorrow night. They may want to make or find small mathoms to give to Daisy."

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer was up and out already when Carl went looking for him. He found the Bull (as he liked to think of him, but would never say out loud) looking under the seat of the Took wagon. A few muttered imprecations filled the air, mixed with the sounds of metal and wooden boxes being slid this way and that. ‘By the One! I know I put those here somewhere. Where can they be!’

Carl stepped up to the front of the wagon, and watched as the Bull, his head jammed under the seat, ran his fingers round all the nooks and crannies looking for something. Carl shuffled a bit in the snow, and cleared his throat, hoping to catch the other Hobbit’s attention. Finally, in desperation, he reached across and tapped the Bull on the shoulder. A decidedly ill-timed act, or so it proved.

It startled Bullroarer, and he jerked his head up quickly, bringing it into extreme contact with the underside of the wagon seat. He pulled out from under the seat muttering loudly and furiously, and raised his left arm to rub the back of his re-injured skull. A sharp jolt ran like a lightning bolt from his injured shoulder straight through to his back, and he doubled over, gasping with pain.

Carl stood there, his mouth open, gasping himself. He was in two minds at the moment, not knowing if he should stay and help the Bull, and possibly incur his wrath for causing all this, or just run back to the house while tears of pain clouded the other man’s vision. He opted for the first course, and stepped in bravely. ‘Bullroarer, let me help you!’ He assisted the Bull to a seat on a stacked up crate, and pressed a snow ball to the back of his throbbing head. ‘What else can I do?’ he asked, watching the other Hobbit still bent over in pain.

‘Just let me catch my breath . . . Carl, isn’t it?! And tighten up the buckle on that splint belt – there between my shoulder blades.’ Carl moved aside the Bull’s cloak and cinched the broad leather belt a little tighter, bringing the fractured collar bone into better alignment. A few minutes later, and the Bull’s ragged breathing had calmed itself, and color had returned to his pale face.

Bullroarer turned his head to Carl, taking the packed snow from him in his right hand, and asked him what it was that he had come out to tell him. The pains in both his head and shoulder were abating, and he took a deep breath, waiting for Carl to go on.

‘Well, sir, Branda and I wanted to talk with you about having a birthday party for Daisy. I found out it’s tomorrow, and we thought a little bit of celebration would lighten all our spirits. Branda wanted me to run it by you, first.’

‘Consider it run, Carl. It’s a great idea! Will you organize for us? And better yet – let’s make it a surprise party.’ He stood thinking for a moment. ‘I’ll tell you what – I’ll take Daisy out with me early tomorrow. She can bring her sling and we’ll do a little hunting. You and the others can get everything organized – bake a cake. We do have flour and all don’t we? And perhaps a few mathoms can be found to give her at the party.’

‘I do happen to know that Daisy is quite fond of flowers. Do you think you could get, oh say, Hal and Gaddy to hunt up some snowbells and maybe a little holly for a bouquet. We can surprise her tomorrow when she and I return.’

‘Why don’t you spread the word quietly today, and everyone can start planning what they want to do.’ He walked back over to the wagon, and ran his right hand beneath the seat cushion this time. ‘There they are! My rope snares and birding net traps! Now I remember I put them there to keep them dry and untangled!’

He turned, traps in hand, to Carl, and said, ‘In fact, send Daisy out to me this morning – we’ll hike out a ways and set some traps. See what we can scare up for dinner. You can get busy with the plans.’ Bullroarer waved off Carl and stood humming happily to himself as he straightened out nets and snares.

Carl went in to find Daisy.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Calenedheliel]

Carl found Daisy in the house and told her to go out to Bullroarer. She looked up at him all confused. She had been in her own little world thinking about Emerald. Her birthday would never be the same because she would always think about Emerald dying so close to it.

"Do you know what Bullroarer wants with me?" asked Daisy. She was sitting by the nice cozy and warm fire, and really didn't want to go outside into the cold and scary world at that moment. Carl informed her that Bullroarer wanted to go hunting and that he wanted Daisy to bring her sling and come along.

Daisy got up and put on her cape and went out to Bullroarer. He was busy with stuff he had gotten out of the wagon. Daisy approached him, when in a small distance away she spotted Gaddy, who appeared to be avoiding her. She thought that he was probably mad at her for not being able to help with the dogs the other day. For that matter everybody seemed to be avoiding her. That thought made her very sad.

"Bullroarer, Carl said that you wanted me to join you to go hunting." Daisy said. "I do not know how good my aim is these days but I will give it my best" she added.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Calenedheliel ]

[piosenniel]

'Well, Daisy, come on along then. I've packed us a little bread and some dried meat to tide us over til we get back.' Bullroarer watched as she walked toward him, sling at the ready on her belt and a pouch full of stones tied near it. She had flung her cloak back over her shoulders, as it looked to be a somewhat sunny day, and had brought a length of thin rope should they be successful and had to carry a number of kills home.

Gaddy had busied himself a short distance away from Bullroarer. Broom in hand, he seemed to be sweeping snow from something as they passed, and he smiled shyly and waved, as if at both of them. The old Took noted, however, that his gaze did not extend to him, and laughed to himself. 'Got it bad, that one!' he thought, shaking his head.

'Come along, Daisy, my girl. There are squirrels and birds to be got.' he said, taking her elbow to assist her over a log in the snow. She waved shyly back at Gaddy and hurried on, blushing prettily to the roots of her hair.

Bullroarer tsk-tsk'ed to himself and set a fair pace as they made for the wooded area. 'Sweeping snow! I will have to have a talk with that young man!'

[Galadel Vinorel]

Auutmn pulled her cloak closer around her. It was very cold. Looking around from where she stood by the house, she saw a small squirrel running through the snow. The small squirrel then climbed up a tree with a nut in his mouth, an dissapeared from sight.

The hobbit smiled to herself, and then tears began to weld up in her eyes. She remembered how Carl had shot the squirrel that just two days ago. Just two days before!! Autumn couldn't believe it, two days ago they had been so happy, and now everyone was so sad.

Two days ago Emerald had been alive, but now she was dead. How could it be? Though, Autumn hadn't really talked to Emerald, she was still a member of this expedition, and their group would never be the same again, now that she was gone.

Autumnn rubbed the tears from her eyes, but more came in their place. She didn't know why she was crying so much; she hadn't even really known Emerald. Besides, she should be used to lossing people that she knew by now. Slowly, a memory crept into Autumn's mind. Too weak to let it pass, Autumn let it fill all her thoughts, mind, and being.

It was a time when Auutmn had only been in her tweens. Her twin brother, Tim, and she, along with her older brother, Harry, had enlisted as patrolers of Bywater. One day, they responded to a call that a pack of wolves had entered Bree and taken over a farm. They surrounded the farm, and were about ready to attack when a wolf suddenly leaped out of nowhere and bit Tim's arm. The hobbits fought off the attack and drove the wolves from Bree, though a few of them did loose their lives. Autumn escaped with only a few bruises and claw marks, but her brothers were not so lucky. You see, when Tim was attacked, Harry went and stabbed the wolf, only to be attacked by another wolf himself. They lost thier lives that day, and Autumn quit the patrol squad after that.


Autumn tried desperately to brush away her tears, but they kept coming. Hearing footsteps behind her, Autumn swung around. Standing there was Giles, looking the saddest that she had ever seen him look before.

[dragoneyes]

Hal staggered under the weight of his burden, he was doing work for the harfoots as that was what he was best at. He found himself carrying two bales of hay from the somewhat depleted stock in the barn to the horse's stables which were all full of hungry horses. Hal always found work to be the best way to get his mind off things.

It was quite a way from the barn to the stables and Hal was straining hard, nearly breaking a sweat, despite the cold. He got himself into a rhythm and began walking slowly but surely on his way. He was walking past the sorry-looking vegetable garden when he heard a swishing noise, like sweeping, he put down the bales and went over to see who was sweeping outside.

He saw it was Gaddy, "I could've guessed" he thought to himself.
"Gaddy." Gaddy looked up from his 'work',
"Yes?"
"Why are yer sweeping up snow?"
"Because I was told to."
"No yer weren't, what were yer really told to do?"
"Clean out the horses." said Gaddy, clearly not wanting to do anything of the sort,
"Oh come on it's not that bad."
"It's work!" Hal rolled his eyes,
"Yer so lazy Gaddy, Now come on, I'll help you with you're work, IF you help me with mine." Gaddy Grudgingly put the broom back and went over to Hal, who led him round to where he'd left the bales.
"Right, we're carrying these to the stables."
"Alright then." he said, going to pick them up, Hal took one end, Gaddy the other and together they lifted the bales, they got half-way there when Carl stuck his head out of the door,
"Hey! You two! I've got something to tell you!" Gaddy dropped the bales instantly and went to go over to Carl,
"After we've fed the horses Carl." answered Hal, Gaddy gave Hal a dark look and Hal smiled cheerily back,
"Come on then!"

[Child of the 7th Age]

After Carl had finished telling his secret about the bithday to Gaddy and Hal, he went off to join Branda to go fishing as he'd promised earlier. Soon, all three hobbits--Branda, Carl, and Dinodas--were trooping off to the Water in hopes of bringing back a large catch. Tne hobbits carried an assortment of poles and lines and feathered lures, along with their weapons and a few buckets. The younger son of the farmer had also come along, hoping to learn a few tricks to surprise his parents.

"You sure we'll find something" Dinodas asked.

"I'm sure. Don't worry. Wargs and dogs are mysteries to me. But fish I know inside out. My family's been doing this for generations. They say if you're a Stoor, it comes in the blood."

"Are any of the others coming?" Carl asked. "Not sure, maybe a few will find their way later." The road's straight and clear so they'll have no trouble finding it."

It didn't take long to reach the Water. It was frozen on top, but, if you looked hard underneath, you could see some real water down below with a few fish darting back and forth. Branda took his pick axe and began chipping a hole in the ice and told the others to do the same, and showed them how they must sit very quietly with a line slinking down and wait for the fish to bite.

Then Branda scrambled deep in his pocket and took out hooks, a few made of wood and ohers made of some kind of metal. He tied them on the lines, and then attached something to the end.

Dinodas covered his nose, "That stinks. What is it?

Branda laughed, "It's rotten chicken and fish. I brought it all the way from home. I kept it in the bottom of my pocket so it wouldn't freeze up and stay fresh. You may think it stinks but the fish in these parts love it."


Then he sat down patiently to wait.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ December 18, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

Oh, Autumn! To lose someone even before we've left the Shire! * Giles gave his new friend a hug of reassurance, his tears over the loss of Emerald joining hers. * If you'd like to keep me company, I'm headed to the barn to build a rabbit trap.

* Giles' feet crunched through crisp morning snow as pale dawn lit cold wispy clouds. Autumn followed in his tracks. Once in the barn, they each gave their ponies a thin nosebag of precious oats and filled their troughs with spring water. Being hungry from trying to go without breakfast, Giles took a small handful of oats to munch on for himself from a half-empty bin. *

* Giles grabbed up his tools and collected steel, bits of wood just the right size for fashioning into pegs, and rope from Farmer Harfoot's scrap pile. Next to the pile stood an oaken barrel with a hole in the side and its metal rim peeling away. A snap of memory came to his eyes. *

Hey Autumn, tomorrow is Daisy's birthday. I can use me some of these barrel-staves to make her a pair of skis.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn turnd to look at Giles. "Daisy's birthday's tomorrow!! Why, I didn't know that!! That would be great if you made er some skis, Giles. What do you think I should give her? Hhmmmm..."

Autumn turned and looked around the barn in search of something that she could make Daisy. Spotting some pieces of old leather, Autumn bent to pick them up. "I think I remember hearing Daisy saying that she lost her canteen in the warg attack. I'll make a nice canteen out of this and some of that wood."

Autumn smiled to herself. This was much better than feeling sorry for herself and mourning over Emerald. She had actually had something to do, and doing things always kept her mind from bringing up memories; memories that she would rather like to forget.

Auutmn and Giles bagan to get to work on making the rabbit trap. After making it, and setting it out in the forest to catch some nice, fat rabbits, they went back to the barn. The two hobbits began to assemble their presents for Daisy.

"You know what, Giles?" Autumn spoke up suddenly, and turned to look at Giles from where she sat on th ground, "I think that, if we are still here on the farm tomorrow, that we should get together a slight party for Daisy. I think that she would really like that, since she's been so sad lately. Do you think that everyone else wll help with the preparations?"

Giles smiled at Autumn, "I'm sure that they will be very excited to help, Autumn. Let's ask them after we finish our presents for Daisy. I'm almost done. How about you?"


Autumn looked down at her half-finished canteen. She hadn't made one of these in a while, but she was finally starting to remember how to make one. "I'm almost done, too," Autumn sighed happily, "I love birthdays. I hope Daisy will like our presents and her party."

"I'm sure she will," responded Giles with a smile. Then the two hobbits bent back over their gifts, carefully assembling the precious presents for Daisy.

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Roth padded silently beside Ragnorak. She was a lean, swift Warg- always ready to kill. The Winter had been unbearable. Many of her cubs are died from the bitter cold and from hunger.

The moon was high in the sky. She had not eaten for..so many days. Suddenly, she heard a soft baa.

She quickly nudged Nimue in the side with her nose. Nimue reacted sharply and soon, the two of them were busy sniffing the trail across the ground.

The sheep was standing on a little crest. It had obviously been separated from the rest of its flock. Roth's eyes glowed eerily with hunger as she leapt forward and pounced on the unsuspecting animal. She killed it immediately and set to work on it, savouring the taste of flesh in her mouth. Even after completely devouring it, she was still painfully hungry. She stared accusingly at the moon, reared up, and her how of anguish penentrated through the quiet land.

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl awoke with a jolt, and found that almost the whole house was empty. ‘They must have left already!’ she thought to herself. She jumped up and brushed off her dusty clothes, and took her brush out hastily again. With a swift brush of her unruly curls, she shoved her things in her small bag and rushed to the stables.

There she saw Giles and Autumn, working on gifts. With a questioning look, she said: "What are those for?"

Giles jumped up and sighed, "Oh, Dafodyl, it’s only you. These gifts are for Daisy. Her birthday is tomorrow. Do you want to make her a gift?"

Dafodyl smiled and sat down Indian-style. She picked up some of the thick leather and some thin leather, and said: "Well, I’m gonna make her a headband to hold back her hair."

She bent the frozen, thick leather back, and made it connect with the smaller, thinner, piece. She pushed a small piece of wire through both sides and both pieces, and bent them back into a little ball. They were almost unseen.

"Two bad there isn’t any paint to make this more pretty than just plain leather," she said as she inspected her new masterpiece. She knew Daisy would love it.

[ December 12, 2002: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas was half-watching Branda as he sat. After all, the young lad had never gone icefishing before, and he wanted to watch the expert.

The smell of rotten chicken and fish and been terrible, and Dinodas took a few deep breaths of the cold, fresh air, and found himself looking at the sky and daydreaming. He could see his sister and mother cooking dinner together, and his father trudging up the road, home from farming. Then they were all sitting around the table with Robin laughing at some joke.

How different things are now, Dinodas thought. We used to have so much food, and now we're hungry... we're all hungry. Everyone is. I hope we can bring food back, or we'll go on being hungry.

Carl gave Dinodas a little play-shove, trying to draw his attention. Dinodas suddenly remembered what he was doing and came back to the present time with an apology to the two. Branda was grinning, and Dinodas realized the hobbit had caught a fish.

Both Carl and Branda were waiting for him to say something, but he hadn't recovered his present thoughts; he was still in the past. So all he could say was, "Good job!"

[Auriel Haevasawen]

As soon as Roth returned Ragnarok knew she had been successful in her hunt. Dark streaks were smeared across her pelt which were clearly visible even in the inconsistant glow of the moon.

Ragnarok snarled. She had killed and not shared a morsel with him. These insolent she-wolves needed to be taught a lesson. He cared not that they starved like him.
He snarled again. His lips curled back from his gums and revealed the saliva glistening on his bared teeth.

Nimue padded about between the trees at the forest fence. She was agitated. The pups lolloped to her side through the uneven snow and long dead undergrowth. Young as they were they felt his anger as clearly as they felt the icey blasts from the fields.
Ragnarok's shoulders shook. His matted hair stood out in a thousand opposing directions. The moon was reflected in his cold yellow eyes. All the time Roth stood her ground. She did not bow her head. She did not lie at his feet. Neither did she answer his challenge. He breaths were heavy and clouds of vapour escaped all their mouths as they continued their stand-off.

Ragnarok's pounce was rapid. Despite the warning growls it still took her by surprise. His front paws smacked heavily against her side. She was forced down into the snow, winded. Ragnarok opened his jaws. She squirmed to be fee. They scuffled in the drift but he was still far bigger than her despite his lack of food. He let out an unearthly sound. It echoed through the trees and carried on the wind. He had her pinned beneath him. Nimue drew further back. Her own pups behind her she would not get involved for their sake. Her own time would come.

Roth let out a wolf-scream. Ragnarok had bitten at her ear. Blood from her wound mingled with that of her kill. Fellow Warg or no Ragnarok would have murdered her.
Suddenly out in the fields a shout went up. Clear and resonant it was in the night air. Ragnarok leapt off Roth in a single, powerful bound. Her blood was on his chin. Roth was on her feet:dazed but alert.
The shouting of the shepherds continued. Now lanterns could be made out across the open land. They had found what remained of the sheep's carcass.

Ragnarok growled again at Roth. Nimue let out a sharp bark to warn them. The hunters had become the hunted and she had no intention of becoming anyone's prey.

[ December 13, 2002: Message edited by: Auriel Haevasawen ]

[piosenniel]

It was late in the afternoon when Bullroarer and Daisy returned to the house. The hunt had proved successful - Daisy had brought down four conys with her sling, and they had gotten a brace of quail with one of their nets. Most of their time had been spent laying out the traps and nets in hopes that by the morrow, when they checked them, they would have another supply of meat for their hosts' table.

It was a hungry and tired pair that came back to the house. They cleaned and gutted their catch, then presented them to the Missus. She directed them to give her the rabbits, she would chunk them up for a rich stew along with the root vegetables she had stored in the cellar. The birds she had them put on a spit over the fire. She would roast them, and pick the meat from their bones, for some tasty quail and mushroom tartlets for tomorrow. She set two handsful of dried mushrooms to soaking, and was soon humming happily to herself as she started the broth for the stew.

Daisy and Bullroarer offered to lend a hand, but she shooed them away from her cooking area and to the kitchen table, saying they had done enough just bringing her the game. She poured them both mugs of thick sweet tea, and they sat back, relaxed in their chairs, as she bustled about her domain.

[dragoneyes]

Just before Carl had left to go fishing, he had told Hal and Gaddy about Daisy's birthday and they had spent most of the afternoon looking through all the things they had brought for a present for her.

All the things had been sorted into two piles in the stable, both were thoroughly covered in straw, piled in the corner of the stable were the things that Daisy wouldn't want and against the back wall was a pile of the things they could give to her. Gaddy had in his hand a bag of dried fruit and Hal was looking thoughtfully at the pile of possible presents.
"I'd not realised that we'd brought so many things with us, definately didn't seem like it when we packed." said Hal, mostly to himself, Gaddy looked out of the stable door and saw the three other hobbits walking back to the house,
"I'll wager they've all got her something already." He said sulkily, frustrated that out of all they things he'd brought, not one of them looked right for Daisy.
"There's a nice book of pressed flowers at home, she would've liked that."

Gaddy turned back round to find Hal searching through the pile again. Gaddy sighed and walked over to Fallor, who had been patiently waiting for the two hobbits to get out of his stable so that he could have some peace. Gaddy stroked his nose and gave him a piece of dried apple from the bag, which Fallor ate graciously.

Hal had gotten right to the bottom of the pile, when he found what he'd been looking for,
"Finally!" he said producing a blanket, "the perfect present."
"What? That old thing?" said Gaddy,
"We're not going to give it her like this, we'll make it into something."
"Like what?" at this Hal produced a knife and a roll of string,
"I was thinking along the lines of a cloak, in this weather, you can never have too many cloaks." Gaddy agreed and they quickly re-packed their things and headed back to the house to work on the gift.

They reached the door and opened it, to their dismay Daisy and Bullroarer had already arrived, They smiled quickly and rushed through, Gaddy had wanted to stay and talk but Hal had pushed him along infront. They reached the bedroom, firmly shut the door and set to work. At first Hal was a little slow in remembering what to do, it had been a long time since he had been needed to make a cloak, but it soon came back to him.

[ December 14, 2002: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

As the last rays of the sun slid beneath the horizon, Carl, Dinodas, and Branda were gathering up their gear, preparing to head to the farmhouse for their evening meal. They had made a long day of it and were returning with a goodly number of fish, neatly strung up in bunches. They had just gone back one last time to retrieve their buckets, when they discovered something strange.

Carl stood at the edge of the river scratching his head. "I know I put those two buckets here. They were both filled with small fish. They weren't much for eating, but we could use them as bait."

"Maybe you just thought you set them down. Maybe you got so hungry you ate them raw." Dinodas suggested with a laugh.

"Ate them raw? Hey, cut it out." He gave Dinodas a playful push. "That means I ate the pails too. I'm not that desperate. At least not yet!"

Dinodas stumbled over to where Carl stood, and looked carefully down at the packed snow. "Look here. Real close. There's some drag marks here." He pointed to a series of scraggly lines on the ground which seemed to lead off in the distance, and then disappear.

Dinodas glanced up with eyes staring wide, a look of fear on his face, and grabbed for a heavy cudgel he'd brought along with him. "You don't think it's more of those critters? The ones we met before. Maybe they did this." He looked first at Carl and then at Branda.

Carl shook his head, "I can't say for sure, but I don't know too many animals that would bother toting away a wooden pail. They'd just dump the bucket over, and eat what's inside. Whatever took this made a clean getaway." Carl looked around the snowswept tundra, but could see no sign of either pail, or the remains of eaten fish.

"I'm not sure," Branda said, "but I have a funny feeling about this. Let's try something..."

Branda knelt down near one of the strings of fish, and pulled a few of the smaller ones off the end. He set them on the ice right near the spot where the buckets had mysteriously disappeared. Then he hid behind a series of bushy shrubs that stood close to the river bank, and beckoned the others to do the same. He told thm to keep their weapons close by. Then they sat quietly and waited.

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

After the three hobbits had finally finished making their presents for Daisy, they went on into the house to hide them in their rooms. As they entered the living room, they discovered that Daisy and Bullroareer were back. Auutmn quickly took Dafodyl's present from her hands and hide it behind her back and pushed her over to a chair. Dafodyl would have to distract Daisy, so that Giles and Autumn could go and hide the presents before the young hobbit noticed them.

Excusing themselves, Giles and Autumn headed up to Auutmn's room, and wrapped the presents with some extra cloth that they had found. Autumn tied a bow around each gift and tucked a flower under the strings. Finally the presents were fully wrapped, and, after hiding them, the two hobbits went down to join Dafodyl, Daisy, and Bullroarer in the living room.

On the way, they passed Hal and Gaddy, who looked very secretive, and Auutmn wondered if they were going to be making a present for Daisy too. Then she noticed some cloth in Hal's arms, that he seemed to be trying to hide. Auutmn just smiled slyly as she passed the hobbits, though, and did not ask them anything. Giles and Autumn then entered the living room and sat down on a couch to talk with Bullroarer and Daisy about their hunt.

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Galadel Vinorel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda, Carl, and Dinodas crouched together in the bushes, their eyes rivetted on the tundra ahead, where a few fish had been set down on the ice as a gleaming invitation for any beast or man who'd care to have a sample. The afternoon sun had long since disappeared, and a sliver of moon rode high in the sky. A few stars had come out to dot the horizon, but there was yet no sign of other visitors to the river.
The hobbits' fingers and toes were stiff and numb as they sat hunched together trying to keep warm. Their breaths made icey puffs in the cold night air, little rings of smoke hovering just in front of three red noses.

"Can't we go?" Dinodas whispered to Branda. "I'm turning into a block of ice!"

"Just a minute. Hold on. I'm sure something's coming. And, look sharp, because we don't know how dangerous this thing will be."

As Branda finished speaking, a white form, crouching and silent, began inching forward along the snowbank. Carl was the first to see it. It lay flat against the icey surface, barely discernible to those looking on.

"What's that?" Carl whispered, with genuine puzzlement in his voice.

"That's no animal!" Dinodas observed.

"Shh!" warned Branda. "Take your weapons and bag your prey."

The three rushed out of the shrubs just in time so see a scrawny hand reach out towards the fish and stuff it into its face. Whatever this was, it was eating the raw fish, bones and all, in one gulp, like a wild beast.

Branda grabbed the creature around the collar and hauled it out to have a better look. As the pale moonlight glowed on the creature's face, the hobbit was so startled that he dropped his prey. This was no beast or stranger at all.

"What's this?" Carl growled. "A hobbit child who's a thief! We'll have none of that. Haul 'em back with us, and give him some of Bullroarer's justice."

Branda shook his head. He looked at the scrawny, miserable form. He was a boy who looked to be no more than sixteen-years old, as skinny as they come. Hunger glittered deep in his eyes, and, with it, a feeling of near desperation.

"Come along lad, and bring along those pails we know you've got hidden. We'll take you back to your smial and tell your folks what you've done."

The lad cowered and shook his head. "You can't do that. I got no home. My mother died of hunger. I'm alone now."

"How are you living?" said Carl, with concern and curiousity mirrored in his voice.

"However I can. Stealing here, borrowing there. That's why my coat is white. To blend in. But I'm still hungry most of the time."

"You have no kin to take you in?" Branda asked.

The lad shook his head no, and then stared fixedly at a distant point in the sky.

"Alright then, come with us for now. We'll see what we can do to help. What's your name, lad?"

"Tomba Goodchild. Folks call me Tom."

********************************************

Tom was taken back to the farmhouse, set near the fire to warm, and given a large plate of rabbit stew. He ate as if he hadn't seen food in at least ten years.

Then they found him a little place in the corner to sleep. The rest of the companions kept looking at the boy. A few grumbled that he sounded like a thief. But one or two of the women came over and, with some sign of affection, helped him settle in for the night.

Then, after another round of rabbit stew and pipeweed all around, the hobbits thanked Giles and his farm kin for letting them stay in such a nice, cosy place, and settled in for the night.

*********************************************

As dawn broke the next morning, Bullroarer rose early and came over to Branda, shaking him awake. Bandobras wasted no time getting to the main issue at hand.

"This lad, you found, what do you propose we do?"

Branda sat up, shaking the sleep out of his eyes. "Well, if we don't help him, he's sure to starve. If times were normal, another farm family would have taken him in. But time's aren't normal. There's no food to spare."

"And we do?" Bulroarer growled.

"To be truthful, a bit more than some. We've got skills in trapping, and shooting, and fishing that others can't match. I think we can spare a bit."

Anyways," he continued, "I'll eat less and work harder, if that will help. Plus, with all the hurt and dying, it will be good to take a young thing in our care and tend it to grow and live. That will be my birthday present to Daisy, getting this young lad for us all to care for."

Bullroarer shook his head. "You've gotten soft on this lad, Branda. Watch out."

Bullroarer seemed about ready to say no, but then thought a minute and admitted, "On the other hand, the lad does seem strong and more used to hardship than many. And someday we might need a hobbit who could pass for a burglar."

"Allright, alright. He's with us, if he wants to come." Bullroarer groaned, but then pointed a finger towards Branda. "Just make sure he does his burglaring outside this group, and only when we ask him to! You keep him in line, or you'll both be out on your behinds."

Branda grinned broadly and nodded in agreement.

[ December 15, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

'Today's my birthday.' thought Daisy to herself, as she hauled out of bed. Bullroarer had called her name several times, reminding her that they were going out to check the traps they had set yesterday and go hunting again for small game.

'Hurry down, girl!' he yelled from the kitchen doorway, effectively waking the remainder of the sleeping Hobbits. 'I've made a pot of hot oatmeal, and if you don't get down here soon it will all be gone. He turned, serving spoon in hand to the thin, young Hobbit who sat shoveling a steaming bowl of the porridge into his mouth. He almost had this second bowl of it gone.

'Now here's someone who doesn't mind the old Took's cooking!' he beamed, thinking how his wife always shooed him out of her kitchen whenever he offered to help. He turned to the hob by the fire and gave the pot a stir.

'Well, Sir,' came the voice of the boy, whose spoon now scraped against the sides of his empty bowl, 'to be honest it is kind of lumpy, but mighty tasty!' He smiled disarmingly and held out his bowl again.

Bullroarer raised one eyebrow and smiled a half-smile at the proffered bowl. 'Of course it's lumpy. I meant it to be that way. Sticks to your ribs better, Tom!'

He ladled another generous helping into the lad's bowl, wondering if Tomba had a hollow leg. He strode to the kitchen doorway, pot in hand. 'Better hurry, Daisy! You've got competition for this last bowl of mush!'

[dragoneyes]

Hal finally finished stitching in the last pocket in an early morning rush. He held it up to the light filtering through the frosty windows, he smiled at his work. The material was good and soft, and the cloak had four inside pockets and a string loop on the collar with which to tie the cloak closed.

Gaddy came into the room holding a bowl of porridge.
"I saved you some." he said smiling, "Have you finished the cloak?"
"Yes, it's not got any pattern or anything on it though." said Hal, taking the bowl of porridge and dipping his spoon into it.
"Not much we can do about that now though is it?" Hal didn't say anything, he just looked thoughtfully at the dark green material.

Hal took a mouthful of porridge and made a face.
"What's the matter?" asked Gaddy,
"It's cold!" said Hal indignantly.
"Sorry I finished mine before I brought you yours. Do you still want it?" Gaddy looked hopefully at the bowl.
"I never said I didn't want it." Gaddy's shoulders drooped dissapointedly,
"Do you want to wrap it up?" said Hal through a mouthful of porridge, "There's some string over there." he continued, pointing to a scrap of string peeping out from under a bed. Gaddy used the string to tie up the cloak and pushed it under the bed, then he sat down on the bed.

"I want to learn how to use the bow and arrow." said Gaddy suddenly, Hal looked up at him, caught quite off gaurd by Gaddy's statement.
"Why's that?"
"I've been thinking about it for a while now, well, ever since we were attacked. I realised how helpless I really was, I could barely protect myself. I should've been able to protect the others as well." Gaddy stopped, tears welled up in his eyes. Hal looked at him, quite lost for words, he hadn't realised how much Gaddy had been affected by the ordeal with the dogs. He could've kicked himself, ofcourse he had been affected! Hal sat down next to him and put his arm around him.
"You can't do anything about that now. Ask someone to teach you to shoot, Robin, Dinodas."
"Thankyou Hal." said Gaddy smiling a small smile at him. Hal smiled back and Gaddy got up and left.

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy came down into the kitchen got a bowl of oatmeal and sat down. The kitchen was quite cozy and warm this morning and made Daisy think of home. Today was the one day that she wished she could be home, because her mother always made this day so special. All her favorite meals would be made and then later in the day everyone would get together and have a great party. She would wear her favorite yellow dress as it made her eyes a very bright blue. They would drink ,dance, sing, and the men would smoke pipe-weed. There would lots of food because everyone who came brought something, and it would end with a beautiful cake made by her mother. A merry time would be had by all.

It was nice to think about home and her parents, but here in Whitfurrows things would not be that fun today. She had to go with Bullroarer to check the traps that they had set the day before while they were hunting. Daisy had had a pretty good day with her uncle. She had managed to get some of her courage back and was able to take down some small animals with her sling. While walking she and Bullroarer talked about the attack of the dogs and her ability with her sling. He told her that she would have to learn to aim at the heads of any of their future attackers, but he also believed that she did the best that she could. It made her feel a lot better.

While in the forest Daisy couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was. It was if all the animals were afraid to move or make any noise less they be found. It felt so lifeless out there with the snow making a world devoid of color. As a matter of fact since they left Bullroarer’s home the only color seemed to come from everybody’s clothing, which after a while of walking in the blinding snow matched everything else in the Shire. She couldn’t help but wonder if all of middle earth looked and felt like this place.

Today the sun was showing through the clouds ever so slightly. It still looked very creepy outside and was very bitterly cold. She hoped that the sun would stay out while they were checking the traps. Bullroarer told her to make sure and dress warm because the sun wouldn’t offer any warmth only light, so she went back to her belongings and found the warmest clothes she owned and prepared for the trip to the woods. Once ready she went to the kitchen to wait for Bullroarer.

Gaddy had come into the kitchen while she was there to get some oatmeal for himself and Hal. He looked like he was feeling a little better, but like her was still upset about not being able to help protect everybody during the attack. She wanted to go to him and comfort him, she didn’t have the time, and he still seemed to be avoiding her. He did look at her once, but looked away quickly when she noticed him. She hoped that he wasn’t mad at her because she really liked him and hoped to spend a lot of time with him on this trip to get to know him better.

Bullroarer came into the kitchen then and announced to Daisy that he was ready to go. They went out the door and headed towards the woods. They were quiet, each thinking their own thoughts as the cold winds hit them, chilling them to the bone. Daisy hoped that they would be lucky and have full traps and a short day in the woods.

[Alkanoonion]

Carl stayed wake most of the night preparing his gift for Daisy, a wonderfully carved Bow of her own. The carving had taken him most of the night but Carl did not mind, he enjoyed making things with his hands.

By morning the gift was almost complete. As a personal touch, Carl had carved onto the shaft flowers with baby hobbits smelling the flowers. Other cherubs like hobbits were depicted to be gleefully hiding behind the petals playing peekaboo. The string was from his horse’s mane and had taken him almost as long to prepare as the bow’s shaft, but all in all he was pleased.

Noticing that the sun had risen Carl made his way to the kitchen to get a meal before the long day started. Today was Daisys birthday and he had lots still to organise; there was the meal to be cooked, and the cake to be frosted, and he still had decorations to organise. He wanted to day to be perfect. What better way was there to distract the group from their recent loss than a party?

[ December 18, 2002: Message edited by: Alkanoonion ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

The hobbits had spent a busy day. Some had gone fishing, and others trapping. From all their efforts, there was an abundance of game and fish piled up on the table waiting for Bullroarer to sort though the provisions and decide which should go for dinner, which to their gracious hosts, and which should be salted or frozen to take along on the journey.

Gaddy had spent much of his afternoon practicing with the bow and arrow. Several companions had gone outside to help him, including Dinodas and Carl. It was hard for him to concentrate fully on what he was trying to do. Gaddy wasn't the sort to be serious about much of anything. But some of that had begun to change. When he'd seen what happened with the dogs, the lad had been deeply troubled and vowed that he'd never put himself in that situation again of being unable to defend himself and the others around him.

Several hobbits had also been busy bakng a cake for Daisy, and scrambling about to come up with mathoms and little treats for the party. It was early evening. Bullroarer had kept Daisy occupied with a number of tricks so that she wouldn't come inside and see all the preparations. He had her going trapping for a good part of the day, and then coming back and carrying pile after pile of firewood, stacking it up in the yard behind the house.

The girl looked tired and exhausted, but still did not know what was planned for her later that evening. When she'd finished with all her chores, Branda and Tomba pushed her into the stables to sit down and have a chat. Out of the corner of his eye, Branda kept a good look on the house to see when Bullroarer would call them in.

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Everyone had made presents for that little hobbit, Daisy. After all the group had been through, Lotho could not help but feel rather attached to the younger hobbits (here, he berated himself for this) and felt he had to give her a birthday gift.

But what? Lotho was no good at making things like Carl. He was only good at selling things. As he thought, an idea came to him. He delved into the tiny wooden box he had brought with him and after a few minutes of searching, brought out a fine, thin but slightly blunt dagger which was too light for him to use. This would be useful, if not somewhat unconventional. If this was going to be Daisy's present, he would have have to get down to the work straight away and sharpen the dagger. He sat quietly in a corner, working intently.

[piosenniel]

It was late afternoon, by the time Bullroarer gave the sign to Branda that all was in readiness. He came to the stable and motioned for the Hobbit to come out. There was flour on his cheek, where he had rubbed an itch while making the cake, and frosting festooned the apron he had hurriedly tied about him in hopes of saving his clothes.

'Give us about ten minutes, Branda.' he whispered. 'Gaddy's got the cake done with my help and it's cooled down enough to put the frosting on.' He reached down with a finger and dabbed at one of the specks on his chest. 'Good chocolate!' he said smiling as he licked the finger.

He strode back to the house whistling a tune to himself. Once inside, he beamed at the hurrying Hobbits, putting up the last bits of decoration. Presents were piled on a small table in the front room, and fresh boughs of fir and pine were stuck here and there sending their pleasant scent into the room. Autumn and Giles had taken the small shiny cookie cutters from the kitchen drawer and hung them on twine from some of the bows, where they twinkled merrily in the firelight.

The big table from the kitchen had been brought to the room and placed at its side. It was filled with delicious foods, and drinks. In the center sat the lovely, though slightly lopsided, two layered cake with 'Daisy' written on the top in white lettering.

'Are we ready!' he boomed to the Hobbits. 'Yes!' they cried, and moved to take their places about the room.

Bullroarer went to the front door and shouted out toward the stables. 'Daisy! Get in here, and quickly! I've something to discuss with you!'

Daisy came at a run, followed by the other Hobbits, wondering all the while what Bullroarer could want of her. She entered the door first, breathless and red cheeked from her exertions. A great shout went up.

'Happy Birthday, Daisy!'

The party had begun . . .

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl smiled and clapped as Daisy walked into the room. She was going to have fun, for she knew that it will be a long time-if ever- before she would be able to laugh, eat, and half fun. The rest of the journey would be surely worse and more frightful than what had already pasted.

Everyone was acting merrily, and had temporarily forgotten about the troubles and woes that had befallen them. They would have fun to, and try to enjoy these merry and gleeful times. They were all laughing and enjoying themselves, maybe for the last time.

She knew that some of them may not go back to their peaceful hobbit-holes. They acted so joyful, without a care in this world. The horrible thought loomed in the back of her mind. She tried to get rid of it, but it sat there, lurking.

With a shriek of laughter from Daisy, she snapped back to reality. She looked around at all of the happy faces, red with excitement. With a happy skip, she jumped from her chair and joined the group. She decided to forget her troubles, even if it was for just that one night.

[ December 20, 2002: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

[Nurumaiel]

Daisy looked overjoyed, and Robin felt her heart nearly bursting with happiness. Happiness, though her heart should be filled with sorrow. Dinodas looked as though he felt the same way.

Robin, feeling she had to say something to him, said through the noise, "What did you get her?"

Dinodas gave her a dismayed look and cried, "Robin! We agreed-"

Robin interrupted him with a laugh. "I know we did, I know," she said. "I was just teasing you!"

"Oh," he said rather foolishly, and then went to the other hobbits.

Robin did not follow him at once. Instead she looked around the room, at all the merry hobbits laughing and talking together, and she could almost see Emerald laughing with them. A tear came to her eye, but it was of happiness and love.

[Auriel Haevasawen]

They had bolted into the forest at Nimue's call and spent most of the night on the run.
Despite the fact is was she who had alerted them to the danger, Ragnarok had taken the lead, as was his wont, and bounded off between the skeletal trees. The she-wolves had followed, matching his speed but not daring to dart ahead after his altercation with Roth. Roth would have welcomed the opportunity to lick her wounds, quite literally, but he did not ease his relentless pace. Ragnarok had memories of those who walked upon two legs. Memories the younger Wargs did not share. He was desperate for food but he did not take foolish risks. He needed to find those who were separated from their kin or like Roth, some domesticated creature, left unwatched.

Finally they had slowed at the bank of a wide and still flowing stream. Ragnarok halted and sated his thirst.

The she-wolves approached. The pups staggered, exhausted by their flight through the snow to join them. They both looked down at them at noted that one had been lost. Whether it was too tired and malnourished to maintain the pace or whether it had taken a tumble in the darkness under the trees there was no way of telling. They sniffed their own offspring. It was not one of theirs. Even if it had been they would not have gone back.

Ragnarok moved aside to allow the others to drink. Nimue came forward first. Her teeth ached from the icey water as she lapped it into her dry mouth but like Ragnarok she didn't flinch. It was a small discomfort to bare.

Roth was more cautious. The weak sun had risen some while ago and was even now beginning to wain again but still highlighted the dark smear upon the side of her neck. It was the dried blood from the wound to her ear. The tear was clearly visible. She lay in the snow before him, cowering, while in her heart she planned revenge.

Ragnarok gave an abrupt nod. His thoughts were no less dark but now the bloodlust had abated he was more pragmatic. Roth was a good hunter and he was hungry. She had learned her lesson for now.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Giles came bounding in, breathlessly red from wind, the excitement of a party, and running so he wouldn't be too late and miss it. Stopping himself just short of knocking over the birthday girl, he bowed and deposited at her feet the birthday mathom he'd scrounged. There was a wooden clatter as of drumsticks being let go after the springle-ring dance. *

Happy Birthday, Daisy! Please accept these skis made from barrel staves, and the matching ski poles that once were used for churning butter. May you glide on these skis to good fortune! Oh, and the bucket of pine sap. See, you spread the pine sap on the bottom of the skis, so they'll sail as freely over any snow as ... as Elven ships sail asea!

* Grandma Harfoot looked up from sewing a pocket onto a vest on hearing the talk turn to butter churns. * Mind you, Giles! Be a good lad. If there's time afore you go braving that sea of snow between here and that outlandish Rivendell place, (instead of staying here and keeping your poor old granny company so she doesn't worry herself to death thinking about you), can you see to replacing my butter churn sticks? Daisy's more than welcome to the ones you've given her, mind you. Her birthday, you know! * Grandma Harfoot's face crinkled into one big warm smile. *

* Giles blushed and bowed to his beloved, revered elder. * Why certainly, Grandma!

* Deep down, everyone knew that there was no butter to churn anywhere in Whitfurrows, nor did it look like there ever would be again. Not unless winter released its death-grip on the Shire, or the Elves gave and gave with open hands. *

* In between drifting conversations, Giles overheard that Bullroarer was deciding which foodstuffs to take along as provisions, and which to leave behind with the Harfoot clan in Whitfurrows. He longed to be daring enough to tug on Bullroarer's sleeve and confess that if he had to eat more than a mouthful of fish, he might just as well sit right down and die where he was now, let alone walk all the way to Rivendell sick every step of the way. But there was no way he could bring himself to say a word about it. Better to just trade away that slimey fare in favor of rabbits, or taters, or even squirrels, or the chance to lick any remaining hint of butter from Daisy's new ski poles. *

[ December 22, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn smiled at the Daisy, who seemed to be very overjoyed about the party. After presenting her present, her homemade canteen, to the birthday girl, Auutmn dragged a stool to the fireplace. A few people glanced at her curiously, for no one, except Giles understood what she was doing at the moment.

After sitting down on her stool, Auutmn pulled out one her most prized possessions, her flute. The flute was engraved with ivy and birds along the sides, and was made out of oak wood. It was very beautiful and always made sweet sounds as its master played it.

Gently Autumn raised it to her lips and began to play a soft melody that her brother had onced taught her. As all noise died down, Autumn tried desperately to not stop playing while everyone stared, surpirsed, at her, for the hobbit was not very comfortable with people staring at her.

Then Autumn was caught up in the music, and she let it carry her away as she sprang up lightly from her stool, leaped, and bowed before Daisy, all the while playing her marvelous flute. Then the hobbit lass tiptoed back to the fireplace, and stood playing and filling out her song as Gaddy, slightly embarrassed, bowed before Daisy, and began to dance with her in the middle of the room.

Then Dinadas and Robin moved out with them and began to dance. People laughed and clapped their hands and stomped their feet as Autumn's song changed and became a light and moving tune to carry the dancers away in its wonderful beat.

[Child of the 7th Age]

As the sweet flute carried its song to all in that small freehold, a number of hobbits leapt to their feet and danced all about the floor. The tables had been pushed back along the wall, so that they had plenty of space to swirl and spin, stomping their feet in time to the music.

The room looked fine and cosy. The long table had been spread with a white cloth, and a bright fire burnt in the hearth, sending its cheerful warmth and light over all the hobbit guests.

For once there was something on the menu in addition to fish. Even Branda had to admit he was glad to see coney and a few fine eggs gracing their dinner plates. But there were many other choices as well neatly laid out for all to sample--turnip soup, fish and chips, dried mushrooms, and crusty brown loaves piping hot from the oven, and, above all, plenty of beer.

Still, the cake in the middle of the table was a special treat indeed, with its wobbly letters carefully traced in white icing. And whoever had managed to bring that rangey old buck down just next to the Water must have been a magician with bow and arrow. Most of the meat from the deer would be left with their host to hang in his smokehouse, and feed his family for many days to come. But, tonight, all would get to taste and enjoy.

Seeing that everyone had arrived, and Daisy was opening her presents, Branda stepped forward with a flagon of ale in his hand, and proposed a drink in honor of their birthday lass. Daffodyl bustled in, carrying a tray laden with full mugs, and went about the room passing them out.

Branda leapt up on a chair that stood near the hearth fire, and brandished the mug above his head:

"To Mistress Daisy, may she find this day with her friends to be sweet, and may she celebrate many more parties back home with her family and kin, surrounded by the riches of the earth."

"Hear, hear," cried the other hobbits, brandishing their mugs on high.

Then Bullroarer joined in with his booming voice, "And may we find success on the road, and a warm sweet bed awaiting us in Rivendell, so that we may bring home provisions for the relief of all in the Shire, and honor Emerald's memory in this way."

At this, there were little sighs all around, and Carl piped up loud and clear, "To Emerald and the Shire!"

And all banged on the tables with their pints to show their agreement with that sentiment. Then the music swept forward again, and the hobbits resumed their dancing.

[Nurumaiel]

Robin saw that Daisy was opening her presents, so, with color rising to her cheeks, she stepped forward, dragging Dinodas with her.

"Er... Daisy..." Robin said hesitantly.

Daisy looked up, her eyes sparkling. "Yes?" she said.

"Well, this is from Dinodas and myself," said Robin hastily, and shoved a package into Daisy's arms.

Daisy opened the present and pulled out a beautiful crimson dress. Before she could say anything Robin began talking again.

"I had an old cloak my mum had made me bring along. It was in very bad repair, but I spent all my spare moments fixing it up and turning it into what it is now."

"Thank you," Daisy said, and, leaning forward kissed Robin on the cheek. "Was it from you, too?" she asked, turning to Dinodas.

"Well... er... yes," Dinodas said, "and maybe you could call the fish a present from Branda, Carl, and I... and Tom... I guess," he muttered, glancing darkly towards Tom but winking at him.

"Thank you, too," and Daisy kissed him on the cheek also. Then she saw Gaddy's envious expression and laughed. "Very well," she said, and he got the same as Robin and Dinodas, only he turned brighter red than both of them put together.

Robin stepped back, holding Dinodas' hand, and whispered to him, "That turned out better than I thought it would. I was afraid she wouldn't like it." Dinodas gave her hand a friendly squeeze.

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl put down the tray that once held beer mugs on the table hastily. She reached deep into her apron pocket and found the little bag that held Daisy’s gift securely. She patted it and with a hop and a skip approached Daisy, who was laughing and admiring her new crimson dress.

"Uh…Daisy?" She said as she reached her smiling face.

Daisy looked at the older hobbit-lass and said with a content and pleasant face, "Yes Dafodyl? Do you want something?" Daisy’s smile widened as she saw Dafodyl reach into the pocket of her apron.

"Well, this is for you. I thought you might like something to hold your hair back from your eyes with in the terrible winds that blow." She pulled out the little bag and handed it to Daisy, who surprisingly carefully opened it. Her face glowed when she saw the homemade headband. It was plain and leather brown, but Daisy did not show that with her face.

"Thank you! I love it! Now my curls will not get into my face with that blinding wind!" She hugged Dafodyl and put the headband in her own hair.

Dafodyl smiled and walked off with joy. She went over to sit with her new friends by the fire, to try to catch a bit of the lingering music.

[Ringwraith Number Two]

It looked wonderful. Lotho regarded the sparkling knife, sighing satisfactedly. He had done a good job polishing it up. If Lotho was good at one thing, it was massaging his ego.

He neatly put the knife in its strong sheath and left his room, making his way down the hall. There were many dancing hobbits and a strong strain of flute music.
Now where was Daisy? Aha. Lotho slipped into between the dancing hobbits and approached her.

"Happy birthday, miss," he said. "I've got a present here- I'm afraid its nothing pretty, but it will be very useful." He held out the sheath, and Daisy took. Her eyes widened as she took the knife out.

"Its so light," she said wonderingly.

"Its not an Elvish blade, but you'll find it easy to handle, I hope." He bowed a little. "I'll leave you to carry on dancing now, miss." He retreated, feeling surprised at himself.

"Thank you!" Daisy called after him. Lotho nodded, and stood in his corner, watching the fun.

[piosenniel]

Tomba stood quietly by Bullroarer, hopping nervously from one foot to the other. His cheeks were bulging with food he had crammed into his mouth from his well laden plate, and his eyes sparkled with merriment as he watched the other companions give their gifts to Daisy.

Carefully setting his plate on the table next to him, he washed down the last of the mouthful with a drink of spiced cider, and pulled hard at the bottom of Bullroarer's vest. 'Is it my turn, yet?' he whispered, drawing the older Hobbit's attention.

Bullroarer motioned for him to wipe the last of the crumbs from round his mouth, and set a small packet wrapped in a bright yellow bandana (one of Bullroarer's largish handkerchiefs his wife had so graciously packed for him!)into the waiting lad's hands. 'Go on now.' he urged Tomba, giving him a little push toward Daisy.

Surprisingly shy for lad who's had to live by his wits for sometime, he shuffled up to her, and turning quite red, placed it before her. She raised her big eyes to him, and he blushed an even deeper shade.

Daisy opened it carefully, admiring the hanky which was large enough for her to roll and tie back her curls. 'Oh!' she gasped as she saw what he had given her. It was a brand new sling, made of strong leather, and oiled til it shone. With it were some twenty rounded stones, the size of quail eggs, all cleaned and polished by hand until they gleamed. She smiled in delight at it and grinned at Tomba, thanking him.

He beamed with pride, then leaned close to her and whispered. 'It wasn't just me. Bullrorarer cut the leather for it, but I oiled it. And I was the one who knew where to find all those good stones for it!'

She leaned close to him and gave him a shy kiss on the cheek. 'It's lovely! Thank you! The both of you!' she said, raising her voice so that Bullroarer would hear her.

He winked and her and nodded. And winked again, this time at Tomba, who had retreated once again to the safety of his plate of food.

Bullroarer leaned against the frame of the kitchen doorway, smoking his pipe contentedly, and watched the festivities. Just a few more days here and the companions would be ready to travel on, he thought. His brow furrowed for a moment, thinking of the fearsome miles they must still cross. Then the music caught him up, setting his foot a'tapping to it, and he smiled to see the dancers take the floor once again.

[ December 26, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy was amazed at her new friends’ gifts. Every single one had special meaning from the giver and an even more special meaning to the receiver. She would treasure each gift as if they were the last ones she would ever receive. Every one would be useful on this trip, but also useful at home once she got back.

The party was going strong and the hobbits were having a lot of fun. The music from the flute made all the troubles of the recent past go away. Daisy couldn’t believe that she had danced with Gaddy. It filled her heart with joy and made her feel even closer to him. It was hard to breathe while they danced because she couldn’t believe he would want to dance with her, or that he still liked her. They didn’t really talk to one another because they were both to shy to start a conversation. She wished that she could find the courage to talk to him because that was the only way to get to know him.

She also thought about the way she had been feeling these last few days. Daisy realized that the hobbits weren’t avoiding her because they were mad at her. They were hiding what they were doing so that it would be a surprise for her. It made her feel really good to know that everybody still liked her and wanted her along on this trip.

Daisy knew that with the end of the party everyone had to get prepared to go back out on the road to get to Rivendell and that the most dangerous part of their trip still lay ahead of them. She decided that the next time there were problems she would be ready to handle anything that came her way.

[piosenniel]

OOC: NOTE ALL GAMERS -

I am compressing time to move the story along - please read my post in the discussion thread.

************************************************** ********

Daisy’s party had been just what the companions needed. Their spirits had been lifted, and the week more spent at Whitfurrows had given their bodies the much needed chance to recover. Bullroarer flexed his shoulder, where he still wore the brace for his collarbone, noting that the pain had resolved to a small twinge when he did.

He was out in the stable seeing to the horses, and to the packing of their big wagon. His mind wandered over a mental map he had of the Great East Road and what lay ahead for them.

The hills of Tyrn Gorthad were very much on his mind as Bullroarer planned out the next leg of their journey. The Barrow Downs were there, where the Dúnedain lay resting beneath the now snow covered mounds. It would be a two day journey to pass the Old Forest and another two days from there to reach Bree.

He looked up at the threatening sky, thinking that these next days on the road would be cold ones. They could take cover in the Forest when they reached it, he thought. But from Buckland to the Prancing Pony was open country and the wind would hit them bitterly from the north.

Bushy brows drawn together in thought, he brought up images of fairer days when he and a few lads had traveled to Bree-land. ‘The Barrows!’ he thought, ‘If the weather proves too dire we can take shelter in them. The Men are long dead, and I cannot think they would mind us passing a night, safe from the storm.’

Having solved this small piece of the puzzle, he went to gather the Hobbits together to tell them to pack up, they would leave tomorrow.

**

Three days journey, and they had reached the eastern edge of the Downs. As he had feared, the storm had picked up in intensity, sending a thick blanket of snow to obscure their way, and the bitter wind pierced even the most tightly woven of cloaks. ‘We cannot camp out in this weather.’ he called loudly to Branda and the others as they gathered round him. ‘We shall all freeze to death.’ He pointed toward where the hills stood up from the snow, dotted with snow covered bumps themselves.

Turning south, he lead them to the earthworks and burial chambers of the Ancients of Men . . .

[piosenniel]

As they headed south, Bullroarer looked out over the harsh, wintery landscape, recalling it in gentler days. He sighed, wishing it were so now. He flicked the reins on the ponies' backs and clucked to them, urging them on to bring the wagon slowly through the snow.

Once, in his younger days, as he remembered, he and his friends had ridden to Bree on their ponies. It had been a pleasant day when they reached the area of the Downs, south of the Great East Road -

They stopped, he and his friends, looking south over the treeless, rolling grassy highlands to where the barrows of Men stood on the green hillocks - each marked by a tall, grey standing stone from out the top of the earthwork mound forming the ceiling of the barrow within. Olo, one of his more bold companions, dared the others to see what they could find within.

Laughing merrily, the small group rode toward the nearest barrow; the clatter of their ponies' hooves softened by the grass they trod on. 'How does one get in?' said Olo, looking at the smooth grassy mound before him. 'It seems all grown over, and we've brought no picks or shovels.'

Bullroarer dismounted and walked about the barrow, to the east side of it. There against the green was a large, flat rock, embedded firmly against the side of the grass-covered mound. 'Look here!' he cried, motioning his fellows to help him. 'I think this may be our way in.'

They put their shoulders to the edge of the mossy rock, pushing hard against it. It moved, slowly, aside, and soon they were peering into the darkness of the chamber which lay beyond it, dimly lit now by the wan sunlight filtering in through the entrance.

'Come!' cried Olo, scrambling down onto the floor of the barrow. The others followed and stood blinking for a few moments, their eyes adjusting to the darkened chamber.

Moving a short distance into the barrow (it was tall enough for them to move about without crouching), they gasped when their eyes took in what lay before them. Two skeletal remains of the tall Men of Old lay side by side in the center of the mound. About their heads were fillets of silver set with single gems. The light caught the facets of the nearest gem and it blazed into long forgotten brilliance for a brief moment. Their hands, crossed on their broad chests, grasped the swords which had defended them in life - as long almost as the men themselves, blades grimed but still intact. At their heads lay their shield and helmet, as if they would rise once again should the call come to defend against Darkness. About them were carefully placed the riches and reminders of their former life - gold in sacks now rotted, and jewel encrusted cups, and much, much more.

Bullroarer had laid his hand against the arm of his friend, his eyes wide at the splendor and gravity of the Men of Old. 'We should go,' he cautioned them, 'and leave them to their rest. We have no need to be here. Let us leave them undisturbed.

Bullroarer shook the memory from his mind, clucking to the ponies once again, and turned round to see that the companions were following in the tracks the wagon wheels forged for them. They were nearing one of the barrow mounds now, and he called a stop.

Hopping down from the wagon, he led the ponies up to where the great standing stone poked out above the snow like a broad finger, pointing to the sky.

'Hold them here, Branda, while I find the entrance stone.' He motioned for several of the hobbits to come forward with him. Soon the stone was discovered beneath the snow, on the eastern side of the barrow.

They put their shoulders to the stone, as he and his companions had done so long ago, and moved it slowly away from the entrance. Lighting one of the pitchy torches he had loaded in the wagon, Bullroarer went in first.

'We have need to be here now.' he murmured to the unseen sprits of the dead. 'Let us shelter from the Darkness and the storm for just a night, then we will leave you to your rest once again.' He bowed his head slightly to those who lay within, and motioned the companions in . . .

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[dragoneyes]

The group hesitated at the entrance, all remembering the tales which spoke of evil in places such as these. Slowly, with Bullroarer's encouragement, the first few crept in, leaving behind them footprints in the dust.

Hal was among the first few to enter, by the little light that came in from outside, he could see some kind of gold and jewels glinting in the darkness, closer than they were two skeletons. They were still and silent, which relieved Hal immensely, they looked noble lying with their boney hands across their ribcages, encircled with riches of old. He went to have a closer look, the swords they held were, under the dirt, well made and things of beauty, even Hal could tell that, and he was no expert.

Bullroarer called Hal away to see to the horses, reluctantly, he went. Outside the wind was biting cold, the ponies stood patiently while Hal fixed a blanket to each, he did his own Fallor last, Dad wouldn't be best pleased if he knew I put other ponies before his own he thought to himself as he struggled to fix the final blanket with his numb fingers.

That done, he went back into the relative warmth of the barrow where a small fire had been started, around it sat Bullroarer, Branda, Carl, Dinodas, Lotho and Giles. The rest were either outside doing some chore or other or were amid the gloom, searching through the jewels or just satiating their curiosity.

Hal sat himself next to Dinodas at the fire, getting as close to it as he could without burning himself. The snow which had gathered all about Hal slowly melted, leaving him wet in some most uncomfortable places. He got himself a blanket and wrapped it around himself. He brought his knees up and rested his chin on them and dozed. He was so very tired, the past few nights had been very harsh in comparison to their soft beds in Whitfurrows. Perhaps tonight he would get a better rest.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* At first, Giles huddled silent around the fire. For awhile, there was only the immediacy of shivered misty breath, raw windbitten hands, and tingling feet. He relaxed into a warm sleepy clamminess punctuated by the clock-like dripping thaw of ice crystals on his cloak into puddled shadow. Giles looked up to wave at Hal and smile a friendly greeting as Hal joined Bullroarer, Branda, Carl, Dinodas, Lotho and himself. *

* Rising and stretching, Giles unclasped his damp wool cloak, which at any rate was good at holding in the heat no matter how wet it became. The brown cloak fell in a muffled heap. The air within the mound of the noble dead of old wavered with a chill, but there was no evil in it. The chill was as thin as the safely calm flicker by which a candle-flame reassures itself that it will be relit tomorrow, even as loved ones say good-night, draw the curtains, and prepare to put it out. *

Safe to explore, is it, Master Bullroarer? I won't go too far, or touch too much.

* Giles bowed at Bullroarer's nod, an expansive nod communicating both cautionary permission toward Giles, and reverence toward the dead. *

* Content in the hushed half-light, Giles padded through the barrow's belly holding his breath as though this place were the eldest of mathom houses. Metal and jewel glinted at firelight's touch. Bone rested, letting the light alone but offering no resistance. Gorgeous gold, stunning silver, radiant rubies, dazzling diamonds, effervescent emeralds, alluring amethyst, sapphires of blue and yellow, pearl ... pearl from the faraway Sea! *

* Giles bent down over a warrior's form. Swords, shields, helmets, all hopelessly too big. Then his eyes lit on some nearby daggers. Removing one from its clean black sheath, he gasped with an indrawing of breath. Serpents! Serpents of gold and red, like small dragons. Imposing, magnificent, with a sturdy hilt and a blade cold to the touch and with a masterfully-crafted sharpness to the edge. Now here was something Giles could use. He bowed towards its former bearer. *

Just borrowing it, is all, * the Hobbit whispered, * I'll bring it back, if I live.

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Tomba's eyes blazed bright as he stared about the Barrow. He had never in his life seen so many precious things so carelessly tossed about in this corner and that. Golden circlets, emerald brooches, swords agleem with inlaid jewels, and even one shirt made of mithril..... He could not even begin to guess what measure of wealth and beauty lay here. And, best of all, there seemed to be no one to guard it.

The lad had been so poor so long. Perhaps, this was the answer to all his hopes and dreams. Respect and riches were his for the taking. Tomba imagined himself showing off a fine smial to all the hobbits in the Shire, perhaps one even grander than the halls belonging to the Tooks or Brandybucks.

Cautiously, Tomba pulled aside from the group and began stuffing his pockets with gemstones that lay scattered about the floor in one of the antechambers. The lad's breeches were bulging out, and he made strange rattling noises as he walked.

Branda and Lotho came in to the chamber to see if there might be space for the ponies to find some shelter for the night. Lotho took one look at Branda, and pointed an accusing finger at the boy, shaking his head in consternation.

Branda leapt forward and grabbed Tomba by the collar. "Spit it out now. All of it. Have you lost your wits?"

"Why not?," Tomba retorted. "I'm poor and hungry, and it's here for the taking," as he began to empty out his pockets, but only very reluctantly.

Branda turned to him with angry eyes, "In the first place, this is worthless in the Shire right now. Starving families need food in their bellies, not jewels. All the riches in the world will not buy food when there's none to be had."

"Second, do not be so sure there is no one here to guard this Barrow. My grandmother told me tales, terrible stories filled with horror, of thieves who tried to make their way out with riches as you are doing. No guard pursued them during the day, but when they laid down to sleep they were dragged into a world of shadows, never to awaken again. What you chance for yourself when you are alone is one thing, but what you try to get away with when we are all together is another."

"Put it all back. Shame on you Tomba, shame!" A few of the hobbits had crept into the chamber, and were shaking, not from the snow and ice of winter, but from the frigid cold that invaded their hearts at the hard words of Branda's speech.

"Is there any way that we could use these riches to aid us in our quest? For we are trying to bring food to hungry folk in the Shire, and need all the help we can get." Carl asked his question while looking directly at Branda, then added a second query. "What would your grandmother say?"

Branda looked thoughtfully into the darkness and hesitated a minute before answering. "She did indeed speak of such things. For my own kin used to dwell not far from the forest haunts of the Elves, and we even heard rumors of their wisdom and tales."

"According to the ancient lore, we may search through the riches to find those swords and knives that bear Elven runes upon them. For these works of craftsmanship may be safely gathered and returned to the people who created them. Since we ourselves visit the Elves, these would be worthy gifts to present to our hosts."

"It might also be allowed to take one single object where there is great need, with the intention of returning it later. Beyond that, however, I could not say."

Branda went on, seaking to the entire group of hobbits. "I do not think Bullroarer would object if each of you searched for a single object of Elven craftsmanship, and brought it to him. You must look carefully for the strange runes that are engraved in the metal. This will tell you what objects are safe to touch."

Branda pulled a ring out of a large pile of jewelry that lay nearby and pointed to some fine lettering, "See these runes. This is what you must search for. Then Bullroarer can select from all the objects gathered and decide what would be most fitting to return to our hosts in grateful thanks for their food and assistance. Go now and look, but do so with great caution."

[ January 01, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl huddled beneath the blanket on the dusty ground. She looked up amazed in the dim light at the male-hobbits conversing above about Elvish runes and treasures. Around her the jewels and weapons gleamed and glistened.

She pulled her blanket around her shoulders and stood. She took a deep breath and stepped toward a pile of jewels and weapons that were all to big and royal for her. With a smile, she picked up a small dagger with Elvish runes written down the side of the blade. The handle had large emeralds and rubies encrusted in it. She thought that it would be to heavy, for it was not made for a hobbit, but it was very light and easy to wield.

With a slightly tight grasp on the blade, she walked over to Bullroarer. She looked to the hobbit who was just slightly taller than she. He was looking around at all of the other hobbits already scavenging. "Mr. Bullroarer Sir?" She said as she tapped on his shoulder.

"Hmm… What Dafodyl?" He looked down at her, and she lifted the blade.

"Well, I thought that the Elves might like this back. It has a wonderfully carved handle with rubies and emeralds in it. And look here! There are the Elvish runes. That language looks so graceful!" He looked impatiently at him, and she continued, "Oh! Well, I think you should look at it. I think they would really like it." She held the blade higher, and waited for his response.

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer took the dagger from Daffodyl's hands and examined it. He was by no means an expert on Elven metal work, but he could see this was finely done, and very beautiful. He cleared his throat for attention and held the blade up for the other companions to see.

'Come take a look at what Daffodyl has found.' The Hobbits grouped around him, and passed the blade from hand to hand. 'While we're here, let's see what few items we can find with similar writing and designs on it. I think if we cleaned them up a bit, they might make a small token of appreciation for Elrond and his people - to show our gratitude for sharing their food and supplies with us.'

He went outside to the wagon and carried in a moderate sized, wooden box with a close fitting lid. 'Now we don't want to get carried away and take too many of the treasures left here with these men.' he said, setting the box on the barrow floor. 'Just take a few of the smaller, nicely done ones. We'll polish them up and bring them with us to Rivendell.'

He held up a hand as the Hobbits were breaking up to look through the heaps of objects. 'Hal and Gaddy - can you first bring the ponies in and see about penning them somehow to one side of the barrow. Robin, Dinodas, and Branda - see to the bringing in of the cooking utensils and our food; we wouldn't want any nosy animals sniffing about what few provisions we have. Giles, perhaps you, Carl, and Autumn can scout for a little firewood and get a small cooking fire going - maybe just outside the entrance. Daisy and Tomba, we'll start dinner. The rest of you get all the sleeping rolls and packs stowed inside here. Once we're all squared away, we'll look through the items in the barrow for suitable ones for the Elves.'

Soon, all the Hobbits were busy at their tasks. Bullroarer had Daisy and Tomba organised and working on their own. They were melting snow in two large pots - one for tea and one for soup. Both were busy cutting up dried meats and vegetables and making a game of throwing them in the pot.

Bullroarer called Lotho over to him, and had him look closely at the Elven worked blade. 'You have a good eye for merchandise - perhaps you can take a first look-see about and see what prizes you might turn up.'

Lotho nodded his head 'yes'. Taking a small lantern from his pack and lighting it, he soon found himself busy at a promising mound of glittering metals and jewels.

Bullroarer returned to the sight of the soupmaking, just in time to snatch the bag of salt from Tomba's hands. 'A little lighter, if you will on the salt, Master Tomba! It's as precious as gems these days, since the snow has cut off the regular flow of trade from the coast.'

Tomba grinned and shrugged his shoulders at the frowning older Hobbit. Daisy looked up with a smirk, and a small laugh. 'I told you you'ld get in trouble!'

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Going out the entryway to seek suitably dry firewood, Giles Harfoot's head snapped around despite himself on hearing Bullroarer's words to Tomba about salt. Salt. Now That's what he wanted. More precious than gems, indeed! For salt, like the red-gold serpent dagger he'd borrowed from the noble warrior, could come in handy. Salt had other uses besides flavoring. Salt could melt ice, for one thing, so he'd been told. Giles wished for salt to fall from the sky, enough salt to melt all the snow, and sighed. *

* As for the dagger, Giles found himself growing attached to the weapon in the strangest of ways. Yes, he'd return it as he said. But Giles wanted the dagger to be his secret, without Bullroarer, or Branda, or anyone hovering around. And his dagger, well his borrowed dagger, would not go to the Elves. In fact, Giles cared not to cart fancy treasure to Rivendell. He was a more practical down-to-earth Hobbit, only on this adventure because he'd drawn the short straw, after all. And promised to return the dagger. *

* In the distance, Gaddy and Autumn called for Giles, singsonging that he was dilly-dallying. Even the Bullroarer had noticed his daydreaming, and was about to tap him on the shoulder so he'd move from his position blocking the doorway. Giles finally spoke what was on his mind. *

About toting treasure to the Elves, Master Bullroarer. I prefers to earn things with my own hands. As a carpenter, be glad to mend loose hinges on their doors, build cabinets, repair dresser drawers, all manner of things. Everyday things, if you take my meaning.

* Giles' heartfelt speech was interrupted by an incoming snowball hitting him squarely in the chest. He laughed, bowed to Bullroarer, and ran out to catch up with Autumn and Carl. *

* Giles felt his vest pocket protectively. Salt shaker and pepper shaker still intact from that time they'd had oatmeal for breakfast at the inn. Good. *

[ January 03, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas sat close to the fire, shivering, and every so often glancing at Robin, who was digging through the different treasures. He crawled over to her and whispered in her ear, "Don't take anything."

She started and turned to see who had spoken to her, glaring when she realized who it was. "Dinodas Green!" she cried. "Well, I won't! I'm just looking. Now you can leave me alone."

"That's what you think," said Dinodas, settling himself down next to her. "But what I think is that you'd take what you could if no one were watching you."

Robin sat back and thought for a minute, and then said, "Maybe I would if these belonged to the living, but I would never steal from the dead."

"Disrespectful to steal from the dead, but bad to steal from the living, who will actually care if one of their treasures is taken," said Dinodas wisely.

Robin rolled her eyes. "Well, think about it, Dindoas," she said. "If these swords and such belonged to the living, we'd need them more than they, wouldn't we?"

"We have our own weapons."

"These are better than our own. We'd need them more than they would," Robin persisted.

Standing up and moving back to the fire, Dinodas said over his shoulder, "It's still wrong, whether you steal from the living or the dead." Sitting next to Hal, he gave a friendly grin to the lad and tried desperately to warm himself.

Robin did not follow him, but she did not touch the treasures for the rest of their stay.

[Auriel Haevasawen]

Miles from the hobbits another pup had perished. It was one of Nimue's and for the whole day she had been distraught. Her head bowed and her eyes empty. She staggered behind Roth and Ragnarok.

They had tried to devour her child, the hunger upon them was so great but she had stood astride it's frozen form and howled in agony. Even Ragnarok did not take her on. He knew it was no challenge to his authority. He would merely remember where it lay and if no other creature claimed it once they had bedded down for the night would come back and take it for himself. It was no longer his son. It was a meal.

They had skirted the edge of civilisation for some time but no animals had been left out in the fields since the sheep that Roth had taken several nights ago. They survived upon carrion: the bodies of others who had perished in such harsh conditions.

As night fell Ragnarok barked sharply and nodded his huge head toward the orange glow of a lamp, hung upon a hook. They stood recklessly close to some farm buildings. Their hunger had brought them into the world of their enemies. They could smell and hear the livestock. A chicken coop was just a few bounds ahead of them. Roth padded forward and looked about the yard, illuminated by the lamp. Nimue was still despondant and unwilling to join with them. She held back with the two remaining pups.

They were starving. They had no choice. They had to attack the farm.

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy had followed everyone into the barrow and was shocked to see that it had skeletons and treasures of all kinds laying around. Bullroarer had instructed her to help Tomba get dinner started and she would be allowed to look around the barrow.

After starting dinner Daisy began looking around at all of the treasures. The jewels were beautiful but of no help on this trip besides it felt strange to take something from the dead that she could not use. As she walked around she noticed an eleven shield that unfortunately was broken. Daisy looked at it a little closer, it was still useable by a hobbit so she decided to take it to Bullroarer and see what he thought about her taking and using it for protection while they were on the road.

She picked up the shield and headed back to the group, feeling just a little safer with everyone around her. She wasn’t quite sure why but for some reason she just didn’t feel safe right now. She went to find Hal and Gaddy because when she was with them she always felt a little better. Maybe it was because Gaddy always found a way to make her smile and forget how bad things could be.

Daisy got back to group and checked on dinner. It was just about ready, so she called everybody to the fire so that they could sit down and eat. When Bullroarer got there she handed him the shield she had found and let him examine it. As she ate her dinner she waited for her uncle to tell her if it would be okay for her to take the shield with her when they left the barrow.

[Galadel Vinorel]

As Autumn heard Daisy call that dinner was ready she quickly ran and grapped her bowl from her sack, and joined the line waiting for stew. As Tomba, trying to be very careful, slowly poured the stew into her bowl, the hobbit lass smiled down at the young hobbit boy. He remined her a lot of her little brother, who was always getting into mischief and such, but still was a very sweet little boy. "Thank you, Tomba," Autumn said, a grin on her face, after the younger hobbit had finished pouring her stew. Then Autumn went and joined Dinodas and Robin near the fire.

Sitting down to enjoy her supper, Autumn suddenly yelled and jumped back up, nearly spilling her bowl that she had just sat down on the ground. Looking down at where she had just tried to sit down, she discovered that a short sword in a scabbard lay there. Glancing over angrily at Dinodas, who was trying not to laugh, Autumn seized the short sword and lightly tossed it over to him. Then Autumn sat down, her face still slightly red.

As Autumn began to eat her soup, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Giles approaching her. Laughing to herself, Autumn took the short sword back from Dinodas, and, just as Giles was about to sit down, placed it on the log next to her. Giles unexpectedly sat down on the sword and then jumped right back up with a holler. The hobbits in the cave turned around, surprised, twice now in just a few minutes.

Giles then grabbed the sword, a grin forming on his face, and tossed it over to Dinodas, who just smiled and pointed to Autumn. Autumn began to eat her soup again, a smile on her face, and Giles sat down next to her and poked her in the side. Autumn laughed, slightly choking on her food, and grinned over at the other hobbit.

Looking down at her feet, Autumn noticed something that had fallen out of Giles' pocket; his salt container. Silently, the hobbit lass picked the container off the floor and handed it to Giles, who slipped it quickly into his pocket. Then they all settled down to enjoy their dinner.

[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: Galadel Vinorel ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Lotho stared about the barrow intently. Most of these artifacts were priceless, it was true. Glittering swords, shields, daggers, jewels.. but none of them were Elvish, or anything remotely appropriate to present to Elrond's folk. Most of the items, in Lotho's eyes, brought up unpleasant memories of death and war: something, he had heard, that Rivendell was free of.

As he moved the lamp, a glint of sparkling white caught his eye. He set the lamp down and looked for the source of the flash: it was a very fine necklace with a pendant of a white lily on it, lying in the midst of a rubble of metal. There was no doubt about it: it must be Elvish. He picked it up gently, half-afraid that he would snap it, and laid it next to him.

Maybe more Elvish treasures were buried in this rubble. He sifted through the pile of dull metals until something jabbed his hand. He yelped in pain and drew his hand back immediately, and with the other, gently picked up the object that had pricked him. He held it to the lamplight, staring at it in wonder. It was a precisely crafted brooch of a slender leaf. He turned it over, and very fine, small lines were lightly carved into the back of it. Were they Elvish? This could be a find too. Cradling it carefully in his hand with the necklace he got up to find the Bullroarer to ask him.

[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: Ringwraith Number Two ]

[piosenniel]

Lotho approached Bullroarer just as supper was done. The Took was just pouring himself another cup of sweet-spice tea, when Lotho cleared his throat and motioned him aside with a nod of his head. ‘About those ‘”treasures” you wanted me to sift through. I’ve given a cursory glance to what’s here – mostly items made by Men. Not really fitting, I think though for the Elves of Rivendell.’ He glanced sideways at Bullroarer to see how his next comments would be received.

‘On the other hand, should we decide to take a few of the “items” with us, I think we could all turn a good profit, in due time of course, and with the proper person to handle the transactions.’ Bullroarer shook his head ‘no’ at this idea, saying that the baubles of the Big Folk should stay here. Lotho reluctantly agreed, and went on.

‘I did find these two among the others. Elven made, I think. Lovely enough though to bring to Elrond.’ He handed the necklace and the leaf to Bullroarer.

A small gasp escaped the Took as he held the necklace up to the light. Narwe! he said smiling, ‘Sweet lily.’ He saw the look of astonishment on the other Hobbit’s face. ‘The Fallohide blood runs strongly in the Tooks. Oft times my family would have Elven guests as they passed down the Great Road, heading for the Grey Havens. My first pony was named Lily.’ He held the necklace aloft again, letting the metal catch the glimmer from the lanterns.

It slipped from his hands, and with a cry, Lotho reached out to catch it. His hand grasped air and the necklace fell to the ground against a small rocky outcropping. Bullroarer crouched down and retrieved it. ‘No damage, Lotho. Don’t worry. How could there be? He pulled on the fine links of the chain. ‘It’s mithril.’

He placed the necklace in the pocket of his vest for safekeeping, and turned back to look at the leaf. ‘Now this is lovely work, indeed!’ he murmured, his eyes shining. ‘I cannot read the Elven script here on the back, but I take this for a likeness of the leaves of Telperion, the Silver Tree of Valinor.’ He cradled the leaf in his large hand, and let Lotho see how the silvery surface caught the light and threw it out in soft white rays, like the radiance of the Moon. Taking a clean handkerchief from his breeches’ pocket, he placed both the necklace and the leaf within and tied it securely, placing the entire package in the box he had brought in.

‘Excellent eye, Lotho! I knew I could count on you. Let’s look around a bit more to see what else of Elven design we can find this evening. Though, I think that what you’ve brought me will make even the dourest of Elves smile in delight.’

Bullroarer clapped his hands to get the attention of the rest of the companions. ‘I do not think these dead warriors would mind if we armed ourselves against the dangers of the road. There are still some perilous places we must pass through, and I want us all to be prepared.’ He pointed at Dinodas and Daisy. ‘Bring me that weapon and shield you two are holding.’ He held up the short blade and the small shield. ‘While you’re looking for pretty Elven things, I want you each to pick a weapon that will fit you, and a shield if you so desire. Helmets would be nice, though I think they will mostly be too big for us. Knives are useful, as are the short blades like this.’

He handed the blade and the shield back. ‘Stow away the dishes and pots. Let’s look now among the treasures and gifts for the dead, before it gets too late. I want us well rested this night. We will be up early tomorrow and on our way to Bree.’ He placed the box in a prominent place, reminding the Hobbits to stow the Elven made objects there.

Bullroarer walked over to Hall and Gaddy as they sat spooning up the last of the soup. ‘Can you two lads see to the ponies – muck out their area, give them water, and a little feed, then come join us in our hunt.’

[dragoneyes]

Hal walked over to the ponies, they had been quickly roped off in another chamber. They certainly looked warmer than they had outside and were quietly standing or sniffing the ground for any sign of grass. Presently Gaddy came over carrying two pots of melted snow, Hal untied the top rope to let him past, then went off to collect two more pots.

Gaddy put the pots on the floor and the ponies immediately took interest. The first two started drinking, taking huge gulps of water. Just as well they're big pots Gaddy thought to himself, looking in astonishment at the amount each was drinking. Hal came in, stepping over the lower rope, carrying two more pots of water. Together, they brought the ponies more water and some food. While the ponies were busy eating and drinking, Hal got two shovels, handed one to Gaddy and they proceeded to muck out the area.

That done, they tied the rope back up and went to see how the search for weapons was going. Gaddy went strait over to where Daisy was,
"Found anything to go with your sheild yet?" he said, Daisy looked up from her search and looked at Gaddy,
"No, not yet." she said,
"Mind if I join you then?"
"Of course not!" she replyed smiling. Gaddy knelt next to her and began to search for weapons himself. Hal soon came and placed himself on Gaddy's other side. A few minutes passed before a small "Ah-ha!" emitted from Gaddy, Hal looked over to him, he had made a hole going down into the pile as far as he could reach and now he was lying on his front reaching as far as he could to get something from the very bottom of his hole.
"Need some help there?" Asked Hal,
"No no! I've almost got it." As he said that, he managed to get a good grip around it's sheath and he began working it out of the tangle of metal.

He finally got it out and was able to give it a good look, the sheath was silver, except for a gold vine winding around it, Gaddy pulled it out of it's sheath, the blade itself was clean and sharp, and glittered in the light. It wasn't too long, nor was it too heavy, Gaddy gazed at it, then gave it a little swing, careful not to hit anyone.
"It's a pity I don't know how to use it properly." He said.

[ January 05, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Merri]

Carl rummaged through the pile, looking for something that might prove useful to him in the future. What was the good of a jewel if you couldn't use it? It'd only add on unnecessary weight in one's bag, and that was the last thing he needed, as he was already fairly exhausted, despite the party.

At last he found a little knife. It was still quite sharp, and on its handle there were handsome jewels and intricate carvings.

I can use this for whittling, he decided, and admired its beauty in the sunlight.

[ January 05, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

After fishing her meal, Autumn moved to a pile of weapons and jewels in th econer and began rumaging. She was not exactely sure what she was looking for, but she wanted to find something to help her defend herself as they travelled to Rivendell. Digging through a pile of jewels, a sudden light from the bottom of the pile caught the hobbit's eye, and she reached down and picked the object up.

In Autumn's hand now lay a small knife with diamonds set in the handle in the shape of a half moon. Along the blade were written runes in the Westron language in a fine red color. These ran up and down the knife and seem to tell the life story of its previous owner. It felt very light in her hand, and so Autumn decided to take it with her and began to search for a scabbard to put it in.

While going through the pile the hobbit lass discovered a smal scabard, with only one marking one it, lying near the bottom. The scabbard, which was the perfect size for the knife, had a line of ivy engraved on it in silver. Fitting the knife firmly into the newfoud scabbard, Autumn strapped them onto her side and began to rumage once again in search of some nice gifts to present to the Elves when the company arrived in Rivendell.

[ January 05, 2003: Message edited by: Galadel Vinorel ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* A shield! Why hadn't Giles thought of that? Probably, because Giles was the agile type, fond of cartwheels, somersaults, backflips, long jumps, climbing, tumbling, balancing. More natural to spring out of the way of danger, not drag around a large clunky mathom only good for cringing behind. *

* But still, maybe a shield would come in handy. Giles softly pattered back to the solemnity of the innermost treasure-chamber with the great Men lying in state, bowing as he came. He picked up a small round shield that he remembered seeing before. It was very plain, just silvery-steel on the front, with two red handles set inside on the back. Nothing that an Elf would want as a treasure-present. But it might make for a worthy sled to slide down a snowy hillside. Or, you could attach a rope to one of the handles, and use the sled to pull supplies over flat ground. *

* Giles nodded acceptance of this extra burden. *

[Child of the 7th Age]

Tomba had finished his chores, and now came plodding along dutifully next to Branda to search for more Elven treasure. As the two hobbits walked, the elder one draped an arm over the boy's shoulder and leaned over to talk with him confidentially , "We don't mean to be tough on you. I know things were bad where you came from, with your kin dead, and no place to go. Something like that can make a person do funny things."

"But you've got responsibilities to these folks now. You have to think of more than just yourself."

Tomba stared at the ground and sighed, "I'll try. I will. Only sometimes it's hard."

"There's something else," Tomba confided to the older hobbit as his eyes darted nervously around the Barrow. "I really don't like this place. It gives me the creeps."

"You're not the only one," Branda confirmed, peering deep into the dark recesses of the mound. "It may be warm, but I'm not sure how much sleep I can get here."

"But there is one thing both you and I could use, and I don't think the brave warriors here would begrudge us, since we have an honest need to defend ourselves."

"My own knife's mainly been used for cleaning fish and cutting lines, and wouldn't do much good at defending us from Orcs. And yours is even worse. It's so small you'd be lucky to make a prick in their hides. Let's find something nice and plain and sharp that feels good to the touch. Nothing fancy. Just something that would stand us in good stead if we face another attack on the road."

They ploughed through the mass of treasure in a portion of the Barrow where no one had searched before. Tomba had a knack for finding such things and came up with two good daggers of Mannish origin, perhaps dating as far back as Numenor. They were simple, straightforward weapons but well made and with good balance, easy for both hobbits to handle. Tomba also found a copper circlet with gemstones designed for a lady's head, intricately shaped and with Elvish runes on the back. He pulled this out to give to Bullroarer.

Finally, in the furthest corner of the Barrow, right against the darkest wall, the boy came upon something half hidden. It was a tattered leather quiver, which he quickly flung onto his lap, curious to see what was inside. Branda rushed over and wrenched it from his hands. "Don't touch those things. They could be dangerous."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Look at that quiver. That didn't belong to any Man or Elf or Dwarf. I've got a bad feeling about this. Just look at the markings on it. It could be Orcish, and if it is, those arrows probably have poison on the tips."

"Are there Orcs buried here," Tomba asked, looking around even more nervously.

"Not buried here, but my guess is that they spent the night, just as we're doing, and then got called out unexpectedly and were caught in an ambush so they never hauled treasure away, or even come back for their own weapons." He pointed towards some massive but crude rusting swords which were heaped together not far from where the quiver was found.

Branda picked up the quiver very carefully, being carefully not to touch what was inside. He stood a minute and debated. He would never use such a weapon against a Man or Elf or Dwarf, even if he was an enemy. But against a warg or an Orc, the harbingers of darkness....that might be another matter.

For one fleeting instant, Branda imagined himself the hero of the group, arrows flying straight and true, bringing down a savage beast with a single shot from this quiver. How the folk back home would cheer when they heard of it. Then he shook his head and almost laughed, Branda, you fool, you're not the best archer in this lot. Plus you're not even sure if these actually have poisoned tips. You're guessing it from Granny's tales. First, bring the quiver to Bullroarer. He knows a bit more about Orcs than you do. If the arrows are real, they should probably go to someone in the group who's a crack archer, perhaps Bullroarer himself or a huntsman like Carl. You're not bad with a bow, but you're not in that league. And when wargs come howling at us, we need the best man to have these.

Branda called back over his shoulder, "Tomba, get us a spot to bed down as close to the fire as you can. I'll bring this circlet to Bullroarer, and let him know you found it. And I'll ask about these," he said lifting the quiver up, but very gingerly. Then he quickly disappeared.

Best get this over, before I get any more illusions of grandeur or an attack of stupidity, and think about changing my mind.

[ January 06, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer tossed and turned in his bedroll. Too much to think about. Still too many dangers to worry about on the road ahead. Tomorrow shouldn’t be bad, though, he reassured himself. They would return to the Great East Road and travel to Bree. Stay at the Prancing Pony, he thought. His mouth watered at the thought of a pint of the Pony’s nut brown ale and a leisurely smoke, with feet propped up on the hearth, in front of a lovely fire in the Common Room fireplace.

He pushed down further beneath his blankets. Despite the shelter of the barrow, it was still cold, and he rubbed his feet together to warm them. Wide awake, he thought with pleasure about the treasures they had found to bring to Elrond. It had made him uncomfortable when they first started out that they should go begging to their neighbors to the southeast. But now they had some small things to offer in return for the Elves’ graciousness.

The companions had done well in finding some small weapons for themselves. It would at least give them some courage and boost their spirits to go on. He sighed, knowing that should they face any large dangers, the company would be hard put to survive it. A thought came to him, and he nudged Branda, who lay huddled not too far from him.

‘Are you awake? I need to tell you something.’ The other Hobbit groaned and opened one bleary eye to the Took. ‘I’m awake now. Is something happening? Is it morning? Should we get the others up?’ He sat up, looking toward Bullroarer’s form in the darkness.

‘No, it’s not day yet. I want you to remind me of something before we start out tomorrow. I have a number of thick branches stowed in the wagon, enough for each of us to have one. They have a good coating of pitch at one end and will blaze up hot and bright when we light them. We may need them should we find ourselves facing another danger. I want the others to know where they are and what they’re for.’

Branda sat there in silence. Taking it as an assent, Bullroarer said, ‘That’s all! You can go back to sleep now.’ He rolled over, his mind peaceful and dropped off to dreaming. Branda shook his head, muttered slightly to himself, and crawled back under his blankets.

Bullroarer nudged him again. 'One more thing. I've been thinking over those arrows you found. You're right. They are of Orcish origin and should go to one of the more experienced bowmen. Though, I don't think I want the other companions to have to deal with them. Make them too queasy and possibly hesitant to use them if they thought they were Orcish.

I'll keep them if you don't mind. I did bring a bow, though I'd hoped I wouldn't have to use it. Once we are out in the open - past Bree, I'll keep it closer by me, along with these arrows.' Bullroarer sighed in the dark, and sent a small plea that there would be no call to use them.

Branda sighed, and held his breath, waiting for "just one more thought" to come issuing from the Took. But soon, all he heard was the gentle rumbling of a snore from his direction. Once more, Branda crawled beneath his blankets and sought sleep.

********************

The Hobbits were up early, eager to leave the barrow behind them. A hasty breakfast, and a quick packing saw them heading back north to the road. Bullroarer was the last to leave the barrow, making sure nothing was left behind. He stowed the box with the Elven gifts below his seat in the wagon. Pausing briefly before climbing aboard, he turned toward the barrow and placed his right hand over his heart, in the manner of the Elves and the Men of Old.

‘Thank you.’ he murmured. ‘May your rest now remain undisturbed.’ A small breeze from the north, picked up his words and carried them in its cold hands.

Late afternoon found the companions at the West-Gate of Bree. The Gatekeeper inquired about their business, and waved them in, shutting the gate firmly behind them. A further half mile down the road and they entered the courtyard of the Prancing Pony.

Smiles lit up the faces of the Hobbits. Bullroarer had them bring the wagon to the stable. All the ponies were put into stalls, and the Took gave the stable girl a silver penny to see to their good care. She beamed at him, saying they would be fat and sassy and coats gleaming when the companions left the next day.

Bullroarer took the box with the Elven gifts into the Inn, and paid for a number of Hobbit sized rooms to accommodate their group. Soon the packs were stored in the rooms and the Hobbits met downstairs to look for a bite to eat and something other than melted snow to slake their thirst. Bullroarer ordered drinks all around for the companions, and some bread and cheese to tide them over to supper.

Tankard in hand, smoke rings flying upward in the heat of the fire, Bullroarer sat at ease just as he’d hoped. He sighed in contentment from the simple pleasures – ale, pipeweed, the warmth of the fire on his feet, and the relaxed, smiling faces of his companions.

[ January 06, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Merri]

Carl had hardly slept a wink last night, and was greatly looking forward to having a soft bed to sleep on. Though he was used to sleeping out of doors, the Barrows still gave him the creeps. He had had the sense of being somewhere where he shouldn't be, as if he were a young hobbit about to be caught redhanded by his mother.

Greatly heartened by the thought of ale, good food, and a warm bed, Carl began preparing himself for a hearty meal, and felt much more cheerful than he ever had.

[ January 06, 2003: Message edited by: Merri ]

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer raised his pint to his lips, already feeling the satisfying, cool march of the liquid down his throat. Nothing! It was dry, not a drop left in it. Who could have drunk it?

He looked at the fire, which had burnt down to a small blaze, and laughed. Lost in his ruminations of what needed to be done to get the companions on the road tomorrow, he must have drunk the whole pint dry without realizing it.

Heaving himself up from his comfortable position, he went looking for the Innkeeper. He found him, crouched down behind the bar, inventorying the cordials and wines on hand. 'I say, good Sir,' said Bullroarer, leaning over the bar, 'have you any more of this good ale? Its thirsty work, sitting there by your fire!'

He hummed to himself as he watched the Innkeeper fill the tankard from the barrel. Smiling, as he took it from him, Bullroarer leaned in toward the man, saying in a low voice, 'What news have you had of the Road ahead? We'll be leaving in the morning, bound East a fair way. is there anything we should be looking out for?'

[Nurumaiel]

Robin settled herself down by the fire in delight, while Dinodas went off to get a meal. He soon came back, carrying a plate for her, as well. "It's so wonderful to have a warm fire again!" Robin said contentedly. "If I close my eyes, I almost feel as though I were back home, sitting in front of the fire on a cold winter night, with mother cooking a wonderful meal, and father sitting and smoking his pipe."

"Have you ever wished on this terrible journey of ours that you were back home?" asked Dinodas, handing Robin her plate.

"I have, in the worst of times," Robin admitted. "But if my wishes had come true, and I had gone back home, then I would have regretted it for a hundred years. And it's not a terrible journey," she added. "If it were a terrible journey there would be only death and sorrow, not any of the fun and laughter we've experienced along the road. What about the snowball fight, and Daisy's birthday?"

"Oh, the snowball fight was fun at first, but it turned out to be a nightmare for me. I was the one - " Dinodas suddenly stopped speaking and glanced at Bullroarer. Lowering his voice, he finished, "I was the one who hit Bullroarer in the face with my snowball."

"It turned out all right," said Robin. "He wasn't angry."

"He could have been, and, oh, through the seconds when he sat there with a startled expression, and we were thinking he'd kill the one who did it..." Dinodas shuddered.

Laughing, Robin began to eat. Dinodas looked over to where Lotho was sitting. "You know," he said slowly, "nobody ever talks to Lotho. I wonder if he's ever been lonely on this journey of ours."

Robin looked at him in surprised. "Lonely? Of course not. He's just an old crank."

Dinodas looked at her with more surprise then she could ever have. "Well, maybe he's not lonely, but I'm sure there are times he wishes someone would talk to him. And he's not an old crank. Only to all you young girls, because... you're so... young... and.... girly?"

Robin gave him a nasty look, but didn't do anything as she was still absorbed in eating her meal.

Dinodas stood up and walked hesitantly over to Lotho, his mind filling with doubts. What if Lotho was an old crank? What if he yelled at Dinodas and beat him? Or what if he was really a Sackville-Baggins in disguise? A smile appeared on Dinodas' face. Of course not!

"Mr. Lotho, sir," said Dinodas quietly. "Well, I haven't spoken to you yet, but now's just a good a time as any. I figured that while we're safe and warm here in the inn, I might introduce myself." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Dinodas Green."

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda had come down to the common room to have a bite to eat and a pint to wash it down. At least on the surface, it looked to be a cozy, comfortable scene with Men and Hobbits sitting near each other and enjoying the fine home-cooked meals that the Inn had prepared. Both the big and the little folk were sitting at their tables and eating their dinners as fast as they could.

This was one of the few Inns around that always seemed to be able to get provisions, even in the toughest of times. Branda had once heard a rumor about how they managed this rare feat in a time of blizzard and famine. He'd heard rumors that the Rangers in the area made a special point of looking out for the Inn, and guaranteeing that, one way or another, food would be found and gotten though to the Prancing Pony. Branda had also heard that the Rangers made this Inn their special headquarters and that it had a secret room in the back where Rangers came to rest and relax.

Branda wondered what a human Ranger looked like. He'd certainly never seen one. His friend had told him they wore special cloaks to hide their faces, and grew to nearly eight feet tall. He'd even heard there were very special hobbits who sometimes served as Rangers. What would such hobbits look like? He couldn't even guess.

He turned his head from side to side, trying to see if there were any strange-looking people who fit those descriptions. But he saw no one who looked suspicious or were wearing cloaks to conceal their features. And even the big folk didn't seem to be eight feet tall.

Some spirit of mischief seized him. A little voice inside his head kept saying: Go sneak in the back and look for that room and see if there are any strange folk there. Suddenly, he couldn't resist. He was glad Tomba was asleep in the room, and wasn't here to watch him look foolish. Fine thing! He spent half his time leturing Tom on the need for responsibility, and here he was taking off on some fool's errand just to see if the rumors in the Shire were true.

Branda got up as quietly as he could and walked around to the back of the bar, the place where barrels of ale and vats of wine were stored and brought out onto the floor of the common room. It led towards what looked like a large, dark storage closet. If I were going to hide a secret room , I'd probably put it here, he mused.

He crept silently towards the storage area, and was about to let himself in when he felt a tickling near his left ear. He turned about abrupty and was shocked to find himself staring into the face of Bullroarer. Branda cowered just a bit, and wondered what would come next.

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer waited for his tankard to fill, listening to the Innkeeper talk about travel in the countryside about Bree-land. The Innkeeper handed him the foaming pint, and Bullroarer took a long pull at it. He choked and spluttered on it, as his eye caught a furtive movement in the shadow of the wall to the left and far behind the bar. Someone was trying the handle to the door there.

‘Are you all right?’ the Innkeeper asked, concern on his face. Bullroarer coughed, saying ‘yes’, and would the Innkeeper please excuse him for a moment. Other customers had come up to the bar to place their orders, and the Innkeeper was called away by their demands for service.

Bullroarer set his pint down on the bar, and walked to where he had seen the familiar figure pause in the shadows. Branda! Coming up close to the Hobbits left ear, he spoke low.

‘Going somewhere, Master Branda?’

The nearness of the imposing Took caused him to stumble slightly, and he fell forward, pushing the door to the darkened room open. A single candle lantern lit the far wall of it, where another door stood closed.

Bullroarer had followed Branda into the room, closing the door behind him. He intended to scold the curious Hobbit about being impolite to their host. But paused as his eyes accustomed themselves to the dim light.

Now he looked about and wondered at this place. Sparely furnished with plain tables and chairs, there were maps tacked up on the walls. Maps of the all the lands from the Great Sea, east to the shadowed and unknown lands. Maps of the frozen regions and maps of the unknown regions of the south. There were arms and supplies piled in neat bundles to one side of the room. A meeting room, he thought. But for whom? He and Branda walked about the room, looking at but not touching the maps.

A sudden noise from the door across the room alerted him that someone was entering. No time to get back to the Common Room! He grabbed Branda by the collar and hauled him down behind a stack of boxes and trunks in one corner of the room. Putting his finger to his lips, he warned Branda to keep quiet as they crouched in their makeshift hiding place.

Cold air swept in from the outside, the sound of boots on the wooden floor echoed in the room’s silence, then the sound of the door being firmly shut against the wind and snow.

‘Well, Olo, for tonight, at least we have some shelter from the storm. Set those two braces of coney’s over there until we are unpacked. The Cook will have some good meat for stew and the bones to make stock with. Ask her to save the skins for me – I want to line some gloves with them.’

‘How about a pair for me, too, Volondil?’ came the reply from nearby. The sound of the conies frozen bodies unceremoniously dumped on one of the crate tops caused the two Hobbits to hold their breaths. ‘After all, I helped trap them and as I remember, correctly, I hauled them on my pack from the Weather Hills to here.’ The sound of good natured laughter filled the room.

Bullroarer nudged Branda, and brought his mouth close to the other’s ear. ‘One of those voices belongs to a Hobbit!’

[ArwenBaggins]

After putting her things away in the small room given to her, Dafodyl walked to the dusty stairs nearby, and started to walk down. ‘I wish I could feel my feet!’ she murmured under her breath. Her feet where pale, and they were starting to go blue. She felt as if she could drop all of Middle-Earth on them and not feel a thing.

She snapped back to reality as she smelt ale, conies, and stew when she reached the bottom step. There were big people and hobbits alike all over the place. She pushed her way through the crowd to Daisy, who was sitting at the bar.

"Pint of ale and a bowl of stew please." She said to the Innkeeper. She had to eat all she could when she had the chance, and save some for later if at all possible.

Once the ale and bowl was in her hand, she was already starting on it. The ale was pleasant, like the first time she had ever tasted it. The soup was steaming hot, and it was thick and juicy. It burned her lips as she sipped it, but she couldn’t tell. She was savoring every drop of it.

After her content meal, Dafodyl staggered over to a table where some of her hobbit companions were sitting. She sighed deeply, closed her eyes, and her thoughts started to drift and be drowned by the sounds of talking and laughter.

[ January 09, 2003: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* After a mug of mead and the heartiest meal of mutton stew he'd eaten all year, Giles sighed … and then, energy returned, shot up out of his seat and danced to the tune of a ringing fiddle and clapping hands keeping time. He grabbed Autumn by the hands and swung her around in circles till they both giggled with dizziness. *

Autumn, I was thinking. I didn't see you take a shield from the barrow chambers. So you and I can share. I can even rig a rope to the shield-handle and pull you like you're on a sled so you don't have to walk, though not for too long, since walking keeps you warmer than sitting when the snowy wind's a-blowing and you're out in it. And if we meet anything like wolves, you can use the shield, if you like. I'd only drop it and lose it, anyway.

* Autumn nodded. Suddenly shy after so much speech, Giles blushed and dashed away into a crowd of folk big and little ordering drinks, to pretend like he was going to order another mead. Safely lost from view within the thick of the crowd, Giles held his breath, closed his eyes, then dashed out again on soft feet to a quieter and more secret spot … *

* … and before he knew it, Giles found himself gravitating towards the closet, which was tucked away behind the bar, racing directly into its dark confines and skidding to a halt so that he missed by inches running smack-dab into the back of Branda and the front of Bullroarer! *

**************************************

Child's post


Branda and Bullroarer had held their breath for what seemed like an eternity. They hadn't moved an inch for fear they would be discovered. Branda's eyes were as round as saucers, and his heart was pounding so loudly he was certain that everyone in the room could hear it.

There were some scuffling noises and muffled conversation, which neither of the hobbits could clearly distinguish. The music from the common room outside could also dimly be heard. Then they made out the sound of soft footsteps heading in the direction of the hall and that door slowly opening and closing.

"Do you think we're safe?" Branda queried, literally shaking in his shoes. Bandobras might be used to this kind of frightening situation, but he certainly was not!

Bullroarer fiercely shook his head no and gestured wildly to Branda, telling him to take cover again. Then, with no warning, the door swung completely open. A small figure came hurtlng through the air. Branda froze, his feet rivetted in place to the ground. He was expecting to be found out and hauled away for summary execution, since he had once heard that these Rangers were very rough folk.

Abruptly, he felt his knees give way, as much from his own fear and trembling as any actual collision. He toppled over whatever had come hurtling through the door and actually pinned it to the ground, more from desperation than conscious intent.

But then, from below, a tiny voice was heard, one that sounded strangely familiar to him, "You're squashing me! Please get up." A hobbit poked his head from off the ground, and turned around with a quizzical expression. "Branda, Bullroarer, is that you? What are you doing here?"

Bullroarer growled under his breath, "Just great, that's Giles. Now there are three of us trapped." Bullroarer turned an angry face to the hobbit. He grabbed him by the collar and scooped him up, unceremoniously dumping him behind a barrel.

"Giles, What are you doing here?" Bullroarer demanded and glared down at the small figure, which was now crouched down into a small ball.

Giles looked up and smiled softly, "Actually, that's what I intended to ask you."

Bullroarer shook his head and growled again. Suddenly, the door creeked, and all conversation stopped. Three hobbits dived for cover behind the safety of the barrels.

[ January 10, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Lotho looked up from the fire and saw a young hobbit standing before him.

"Mr. Lotho, sir," said the hobbit quietly. "Well, I haven't spoken to you yet, but now's just a good a time as any. I figured that while we're safe and warm here in the inn, I might introduce myself." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Dinodas Green."
Lotho felt slightly surprised, and after slight hesitation, extended his own hand and shook Dinodas'. "Pleased to meet you, Mr Dinodas Green." He regarded the younger hobbit shrewdly for a few minutes. "What brings you here, young master?" he said, his eyes twinkling. He suddenly got up, told Dinodas that he would back in a moment, and soon reappeared with two foaming tankards.

"You can tell me over that, young master," he said, handing one to Dinodas. This would be interesting, thought Lotho. He knew what the young ones thought of him... but this one, he had approached him, despite the others' opinions. Lotho was quite liking this young hobbit.

[piosenniel]

‘Shut that door and bar it tight, Volondil. I doubt there will be any more of us stopping by the Inn tonight.’ Olo pulled out a chair and sank down into it. He pulled off his ragged gloves, rubbing his hands together briskly to get some feeling and warmth back into them. His snow dusted feet he propped on a chair he had pulled close, watching as Volondil barred the door. There had been too many strange, shadowy happenings of late, and neither Ranger wished to be pulled from their rest tonight to face them.

A three tap knock at the Common Room door brought them to attention. Volondil strode quickly to it, his ear against the wood. ‘It’s me.’ came the faint voice from without. The Cook, noting that they had arrived by the finding of the coneys laid out on the kitchen counter top for her, had brought them a small pot of stew, and a loaf of crusty bread.

Olo took the lid from the stew, and waved it over the savory steam rising from it, inhaling the aroma appreciatively. The Cook beamed as she watched him do it. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘I almost forgot this.’ From the spacious pocket of her apron, she brought forth a small bottle of good, red wine and two clean glasses. ‘Here’s something from the Innkeeper to help wash it all down.’

Volondil gave a wink and a smile to the Cook, causing her to blush furiously. She dropped a small curtsy to the two Rangers, and quickly left the room, giggling like a silly young girl.

Silence, of a sort, ensued as the two tucked into their meal. Their bellies satisfied, they sat back, enjoying a last glass of wine.

It was at that inopportune moment that Bullroarer’s stomach chose to protest its own empty condition. The scent of the food and the sounds of spoons scraped over emptying bowls proved too much for it. It started as a small grumbliness, then worked its way up to a full rumble.

The Rangers stood quickly, overturning their chairs as they rose and drew their blades. Their gazes fixed on the area of the room from which the sounds had come. ‘What kind of animal is that?’ whispered Olo. They advanced toward the stack of barrels and crates, one to each side of it, sword in the attack position.

‘I don’t know,’ returned Volondil, circling to the right of the stack, as Olo took the left, ‘but it sounds big, and dangerous.’

Only the soft scuff of their boots and feet heralded the nearness of their approach. They had reached the corners of the stack, and Volondil was poised to thrust his longer blade behind it to flush out the unseen intruder from the shadows . . .

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* A cheery chuckle sounded from behind the stack of barrels and crates. Giles couldn't help it. On hearing the question, ‘What kind of animal is that?’ ... it suddenly occurred to the mild-spoken carpenter that here must be the explanation behind Bullroarer's strange name. *

[piosenniel]

Branda couldn’t stand it any more. He started giggling, a most undignified, and loud, sound. Bullroarer was horrified. First the rumbling of his empty belly, then Gile’s chuckling, and now this hysterical sound. He nudged Branda hard in the ribs, causing him to make a hiccupping sort of snort as the laughter was cut off by pain.

Olo and Volondil drew back a pace. The Hobbit raised his eyebrows at the Man. Volondil shrugged his shoulders, keeping his weapon at the ready. ‘What sort of beast is it that fits in so small a space?’ asked Volondil. ‘Yet sounds so strange, almost mad, in fact.’ He smiled at Olo, motioning for him to come near. Peeking just out from the shadowed edge of the crate near the wall was a foot, a decidedly hairy foot.

‘By the One!’ cried Olo, shaking his head at the discovery. ‘It’s a Hobbit we’ve got cornered!’ He beat the handle of his sword against the crates. ‘Come out of there you foolish kuduk!

Bullroarer grabbed both Giles and Branda by the collars and hauled them up and out from the hiding place. ‘Actually,’ he said, mustering as much calm and authority as he could in the present situation, ‘It’s three Hobbits you’ve got. Three very sorry Hobbits.’ He looked at the Rangers, just resheathing their blades. ‘Any chance I could stand you a pint or two, just to make up for disturbing your dinner?’

Olo narrowed his eyes as Bullroarer spoke, then burst out laughing. ‘My Stars!’ he said, pointing to where the Took stood. ‘Volondil, we’ve just captured Bandobras Bullroarer Took, hero of the Battle of the Greenfields!’

[Galadel Vinorel]

After Giles had left Auutmn, the lass had sat alone by hte fire enjoying the sweet music of the fiddle and the heat of the burning fire behind her. Going over to the fiddlers, Autmn pulled out her flute and asked to play with them. Sitting down beside the musicians she began to play her flute to the melody of th fiddlers, though an dlittle slowerer and softer.

Building up her tune, Auutmn began to play the flute louder and faster. Finally she matched the volume and speed of the fiddlers and they laughed began to increase in volume. Smiling at them the lass began to increase her volume as well. Finally the one of the fiddlers actually broke a string on his instrument from playing too hard, andf all the musicians laughed, and the music in the room cut off for a moment.

Then Auutmn began to play a soft melody that her brother had taught her and the fidderlers joined her, softly playing their instruments. Then Autumn sped up her beat and the fiddlers did the same, and people stomped their feet and clapped their hands to the rousing beat. A few men and women, big and small, began to dance out in the middle of the floor and the musicians laughed and began to play faster, in step with the merry dancers.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Galadel Vinorel ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda hung his head in shame. His face was beet red. How could he have laughed? That was even worse than Bullroarer's stomach.
Well, he'd better put his best foot forward now, or he'd look like a complete fool.

He glared over at the hobbit and pulled himself up to his full height of just under four feet. Then he growled back, sounding far more confident than he actually felt. "That he is, fellow kuduk. And a better hobbit you'll never see. Who might you be? I've certainly never seen you in the Shire. And why are you hanging around with one of the big folk?" He gestured over a bit nervously in the direction of the Man, the one that had been referred to as Volondil.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

'Olo Gardener, my good fellow!' said the Hobbit, surprised by Branda's boldness. 'From Michel Delving.' He motioned with his hand toward the tall Man who stood near him now. 'And this is Volondil, of Ithilien. We are both Rangers.'

His eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping the three of them. 'This is not normally a place where guests of the Inn would be poking about. Did the Innkeeper tell you where you might find us? Have you some need that drove you to seek us out? And if so, why were you hiding when we came in?'

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda blushed furiously again. "Actually, it's my fault. My granny told me stories about the Rangers, fierce folk who guard the roads. I'd heard rumors I could scarcely believe that the Pony might actually have a back room where these fierce fighters came sometimes. I was so curious I came back to look."

Branda gave the two figures a look up and down. "Please don't be offended, but you don't look like what Granny told me. She said most Rangers were eight feet tall. And even he doesn't look like that." Branda pointed a finger over in Volondil's direction.

"But as far as what we're doing here, that's another story, and has to do with the great hunger in the Shire. Perhaps, Bullroarer can explain that better than I can, since he's the leader of our band."

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Gandalf_theGrey]

And I, I fear not the fierceness of Rangers. I am hiding from a Hobbit lass. * Giles drew himself up to his full short height of 3 foot, 3 inches tall, stuck out his jaw with all the dignity he could muster, and bowed a low greeting. * Giles Harfoot of Starfield, carpenter, at your service. * He pointed at Bullroarer and Branda. * I'm with them.

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[piosenniel]

Olo’s eyes twinkled at the old story that Rangers were eight feet tall. How many times had he heard that one! And seen the questioning looks that followed when he assured them he was indeed a Ranger. He glanced to his right where Volondil now stood up as straight as he could, trying to fufill the role for these hobbits.

Volondil caught his partner’s look and shrugged his shoulders, chuckling. He relaxed his stance and stepped back a pace or two, inviting the Hobbit group out from the shadows to have a seat. The four Hobbits took the chairs at the table, and Volondil pushed a barrel near for him to sit on.

The Man brought three clean glasses from a side cupboard, and poured the remainder of the wine for the company, his partner, and himself. As he poured the last of the bottle into his glass, he wondered again why the Hobbits were so far from their homes, especially in this weather.

‘We cannot stay at home and watch our families and friends starve slowly.’ said Bullroarer in a low voice. ‘What meager supplies of grains and vegetables and fruits we had are almost gone, and the hunting is poor. The deer and rabbits have grown few; they too suffer from this long harsh winter. Our own farm animals are grown thin and either die from hunger or we are forced to kill them to keep ourselves alive.’

Bullroarer rubbed his thick fingers on the rough grain of the old table. ‘We are desperate, and so we turn to desperate measures to see us through.’ He looked carefully at the two Rangers, who both leaned forward, listening closely to his words.

‘We are bound for Rivendell, to the House of Elrond.’ he continued. ‘We have heard they have some supplies of food they can share with us. And we have brought gifts for their willingness to do this for us.’

The eyes of both the Rangers grew wide at this statement. ‘Rivendell!’ said Olo. ‘A long way still to go, with grim dangers ahead on the road, if we have heard the reports aright.’

‘That is our path for certain,’ continued the Took. ‘Dangers we have already faced, and we will face what we need to bring food back to our people.’ He told them of their journey so far, and what had beset them.

Volondil shook his head sadly on hearing of the wild dog attack and the death of one of the companions. He excused himself for a moment, and pulled Olo to one side with him. They spoke quietly for a few moments, their faces serious, their voices quiet and grim in tone. When they returned to the table, Volondil motioned for Olo to speak.

‘We have discussed your story and fear that if you go on alone, there will be none who return.’ The three companions blanched at this statement, but still the resolve to go on was in ther eyes. Olo continued, ‘The road is filled with many dangers in these cold days. Bigger dangers than the ones you’ve faced so far. We are sworn to the safety of those within our territory.’ Olo leaned forward, his hands on the table before him. ‘We cannot allow you to continue on this doomed journey . . .’

Bullroarer stood up quickly, cutting off the words of the Ranger. His face was marked with anger as he stared into Olo’s face. ‘It is not for you to say what I and my companions can or cannot do. Tomorrow morning we will rise early and be on our way. We are resolved, and there is nothing you can do to stop us.’

Volondil stepped forward, placing his hands on both the Hobbit’s arms, urging them apart, asking them to be seated. ‘I think if you heard Olo out, there will be no need for such anger.’ he entreated.

Olo took a deep breath, nodding his head at Bullroarer. ‘Yes, I think my words did not come out the way I intended.’ He looked at the tense faces of the three companions, his own face softening. ‘We cannot allow you to continue on this doomed journey . . . alone!’

He looked to Volondil and then went on. ‘I will be coming with you.’

[Envinyatar]

Carl had not come to the Inn with the others. He had gone on before them as they left the Barrow Downs, scouting the territory that lay ahead of them. His senses were on alert, as he ranged to either side of the road, looking for any scent or sight of threat. He did not mean for the group to be surprised again by hidden dangers.

Even now he ranged east of Bree, and what he saw disturbed him. Four-toed tracks of some four legged beasts crossed and recrossed the edges of the road. Wolves, he thought. Or worse yet, since the prints were large, Wargs. The hair on his neck stood up as he considered them – some were fresh, perhaps a day or two old.

The evening was eerily silent, the only sound the whoosh of the wind driven snow as it blew past his ears. A night such this could hide anything, he thought grimly to himself. Knocking an arrow to his bow, he turned west and headed swiftly back toward the Inn.

He stood beneath the overhang of the entry way and brushed the snow from his feet as best he could. A shake of his cloak and some slaps to his breeches drove the clinging snow from them. Entering the Inn, he stood a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the brighter light within. The warmth from the fire hit him, and he looked gladly toward it, and then toward the bar with the plump Innkeeper behind it.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he strode quickly to the bar, and asked for a pint of winter ale. The Innkeeper looked at him, and chuckled at the request. ‘Best you asked for that, laddie.’ he said drawing the ale into the mug. ‘Winter ale is all we have!’ He winked at his joke, and handed the mug to Carl.

Carl turned and looked about the room for his fellow travelers. He wanted to speak with Bullroarer about what he had found, but saw him nowhere. Going up to the table where the majority of the party sat, he plunked himself down in a chair. His blue eyes crinkled as he looked from one to the other.

‘Anyone know where the Bull is?’ he asked, motioning to a passing serving girl for another ale. ‘I have some news for him. Where is he?’

[ January 11, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Galadel Vinorel]

After playing a few songs with the fiddlerers Autumn stood up to excuse herself, and, after recieving many bows and thanks from the other musicians, went to find the rest of her group. Sitting down, the lass ordered a winter ale and began to talk over tales that everyone had heard of Rivendell.

Feeling a slight breeze on the back of her neck, Autumn turned to see the door of the Inn open and Carl walked in. The hobbit lass had noticed before that Carl was not with the main group after they left the Barrows, and she realized now that he had been scouting alond the road. After entering the inn and talking to the innkeeper for a moment, Carl joined the main group. Suddenly, while the rest of them were thinking of their journey to come, Carl spoke up, "Anyone know where the Bull is?" he asked, motioning to a passing serving girl for another ale, "I have some news for him. Where is he?"

Autumn loked around the main hall, her blue eyes searching every knook and cranny for the missing hobbit. "I don't know," Autumn answered, "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Giles or Branda, as well, for a while now."

The company then got up and began to search from their three missing companions. When they were about ready to give up all hope, suddenly they heard a door open, and they all turned to see....

[piosenniel]

It was set, then. Volondil would stay in their territory around the Inn, patrolling as they had both done before. Olo would accompany the Hobbits to Rivendell, and return to Bree with them on their return trip.

'You should make yourself known to Bullroarer's group.' said Volondil, laying his bed roll out on the bunk to the side of the room. 'Hobbit's are friendly folk, so I've learned, but the addition of an unknown Ranger may make them uneasy.'

He sat down on the bunk, and took out his pipe and pouch of Southern Star. 'As for me, I think I will stay in the shadows here and keep my face from too much notice.'

[ January 12, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas explained why he was there while Lotho watched him. He felt rather nervous, feeling Robin's eyes on him constantly as well as Lotho's, but he continued to talk. What if another of their company was killed? Dinodas wanted to be friends with them all, not letting anyone else leave with him just barely knowing them.

"But I don't think you're an old crank, Mr. Lotho, sir, so I thought I should talk to you... I guess.... maybe..." Dinodas' voice slowly trailed off. He hurriedly took a sip of his ale.

Lotho and Dinodas began to talk, though Dinodas did most of the talking. Robin, watching from a distance, knew that Lotho wouldn't be able to say a word no matter how hard he tried. Dinodas was just talking to cover up his nervousness and embarrassment. Once he paused and looked back at Robin, but she immediately turned away.

Let him be fooled by that old crank, she thought. I'm not getting close to him. I don't want to get hurt!

Dinodas sighed and decided he'd ignore her for acting so rude. After all, he had just offered her with his eyes to come and join them, but she wouldn't. If he had offered to Gaddy or Hal or Autumn or Daisy or anyone else he was sure they would have come.

Dinodas turned back to Lotho and continued talking with him, and looking out the window every so often. He dreaded when they'd leave this warm inn and continue on that cold, dangerous road. But he'd stick by Bullroarer until the end.

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer opened the door from the back room and led his two companions out to the Common Room. The noise of the Inn dropped several levels as faces turned to see who emerged from the shadows. Autumn and the other Hobbits who had been searching for them came running up, their questions tumbling over one another’s, helter skelter.

The Took raised his hand for silence, and guided them all back to a more private corner of the room. Once seated, he spoke quietly to them of what they had found on their misadventure and of the new addition to their group. ‘A Ranger! I’ve heard of them.’ said Carl. All eyes turned to him. ‘Met some once, too. In the Old Forest. Quiet sorts, good hunters.’ He took a long pull at his pint, wondering what had prompted him to say so much.

‘Well, where is this Ranger?’ asked Gaddy? Lotho leaned forward, a frown on is face. ‘Why would one of the Big Folk want to come with us, I wonder? What’s the profit in that for him?’

‘Here I am.’ came the low voice of the figure who now stood near their table, cape drawn tightly about him, hood up and concealing his face. The Hobbits turned as one to the unexpected sound. ‘Hah!’ cried one of them, taking in the small figure. ‘It’s a child who wants to go with us!’ she asked incredulously. ‘Not a child,’ said Daisy. ‘Look at his feet.’

Olo threw back his hood, approaching closer to the companions. ‘Yes, I’m a Hobbit, not a Man-child.’ He turned to Lotho, answering his question. ‘No profit for me, sir, in going with you. Save for the satisfaction that you will be seen as safely as I may to Rivendell.’

[Auriel Haevasawen]

Roth padded silently toward the smell of live chickens. Even though she made no audible sound the hens became restless. They are not foolish birds, they could sense evil in the night.

Ragnarok circled round the shed in the opposite direction. He would work with Roth willingly enough if their was a chance of a warm-blooded feast.

The poultry began to clammer. The nostrils of the wolvern creatures flared at gaps in the closed shutters or below the door. The building itself was sturdy wattle and daub, like many of its kind. They could not gain entry at present. All was shut up tight. Ragnarok growled softly to himself. He listened to the disturbance the noise of his growl had made within the shed. If it had been light something akin to a smile would have been visible along his wet lips.

Nimue had brought the two pups close but still seemed unwilling to be involved. It was best she kept them back, they could make an inopportune noise and disturb the Warg's greatest fear. Those who walked upon two legs, the creatures that tamed others. The Wargs were not for being tamed. Everything that had blood within its veins, whether hot and pumping or cold and still was food to the Warg.

Ragnarok took a look at the glow from the farmhouse window. They were far enough away to take a little, hunger-motivated risk. A quick snap of a bark told Nimue and Roth to keep watch in that direction. He lept lightly onto some bales of staw that stood idly by the side of the shed, covered in snow that rendered them useless for dry bedding. From there he made a second leap onto the roof. In his youth when caution was not something he cared for he had done this several times until an arrow caught him in the flank for his pains. He still carried a fragment of the tip in his flesh to remind him to be wary.

Mounting the snow coated thatch was tricky and he found he slid several times before gaining a purchase on the ridge of the shed. Below him the fowl grew hysterical. He looked again toward the house. No movement: the winter wind was in his favour. He dug away the roof snow like a common dog until he exposed the reeds. He glanced again, he hoped the she-wolves kept watch as he had instructed. Steadily he began to bite, pull and dig away at the thatch. The hens below seemed to shriek in panic. He opened up a gap and could see hectic movement below him. He snarled with pleasure. Ragnarok was almost upon them.

[Galadel Vinorel]

Autumn could not believe it. A Ranger who was a hobbit!! 'I've never heard of this happening befoe,' thought the lass to herself.

Then Autumn suddenly remember her manners and stood up and bowed low to Olo. "How do you do, sir? My name is Autumn Gamwich, and I would like to welcome you, as I am sure the rest of my companions will do as well, " she said glaring over at a few of the hobbits, who sat staring at Olo dumbfoundedly, "to our group. We are all very happy that you will be joining us. Please do excuse my friends here, though, for we have never met a hobbit who is a Ranger before now." Autumn glared at some of the staring hobbits once again and elbowed one of them. Then, after bowing low to the Ranger once more, the hobbit lass returned to her seat.

[dragoneyes]

Gaddy ignored Autumn's elbow, and continued to stare, even when Olo was engaged in conversation by someone else. It took a few more shoves from Hal before he came to his senses and sat down again. His train of thought then moved onto Daisy, a subject which had been on his mind increasingly since the party at Whitfurrows.
"There's another addition to the company then." said Hal, interrupting Gaddy's thoughts,
"What are you talking about?" He said before he'd really thought about what he was saying,
"Where is your mind tonight Gaddy? What do you think I'm talking about?"
"Oh, you mean that ranger don't you."
"Yes, I mean Olo. I was going to suggest talking to him but your mind seems to be moving especially slowly at the moment."

Gaddy didn't say anything, he was thinking about how useful this ranger could've been earlier on in their journey. He shook his head slightly and returned to the Inn,
"Sorry Hal." he said smiling broadly "Why don't we go and talk to him now?"
"Well he's talking now, don't want to interrupt them."

[ January 12, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl overheard Hal and Gaddy talking about the Ranger. ‘Come on, you two,’ he said, sitting down next to Gaddy, ‘let’s go stand him a pint and find out about him. He looks like a regular sort of guy, despite the Elvish cape and the sword at his side.’ Carl nudged Gaddy in the ribs. ‘Besides, you look like someone who needs their mind taken off someone else.’

He saw Gaddy glance at Hal, then look calf-eyed toward Daisy, sitting at the other end of the long table. ‘Thank the stars, I’ve got my trapping, and hunting, and tramping about the woods to fill my time.’ He thought to himself, as Gaddy slumped in his chair, distracted. ‘This man and woman thing is too slippery for me to get my mind around.’

Olo had just finished talking with a few of the other companions, when Carl approached him, saying, ‘Thirsty work, all that talking.’ He handed the Ranger a tankard of ale, and was rewarded with a nod of the head and a hearty, ‘Thanks!’

[ January 13, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[piosenniel]

Olo proved as true to his Hobbit nature as they could hope. A few drinks with the companions and a pouch of tobacco passed round to fill their pipes, and he had been accepted into the group as if he had been with them all along. Bullroarer beamed. This was working out better than he had expected when first he had found himself wedged behind that stack of crates hoping not to be discovered.

The hour was growing late, and the sleepy eye of the Innkeeper was now upon them. Most of the guests had already gone to bed, and now the Innkeeper asked Bullroarer for the third time if there was anything else they would be wanting.

‘No, my good man, we’re fine.’ He said. ‘Give us just a few more minutes to discuss our plans for tomorrow and then we’ll be off to bed.’ He waved him off saying, ‘I’ll bank the fire for you when we go upstairs. Go ahead and bar the door now if you wish, we’re all inside.’ Thanking him, the Innkeeper went wearily to his rest.

Bullroarer turned to the companions once he had gone. ‘All right, you Hobbits. Let’s get off to bed soon. We’ll start tomorrow, at first light if we can.’ There was a general groan at this statement, and much yawning. ‘I want us on the road to the Forsaken Inn, about a day’s journey from here. It’s the last nice place we’ll have to stay ‘til we get to Rivendell.’

In ones and twos the companions left the Common Room and found their way to bed. Olo had come up to stand near Bullroarer and Branda while the others left. ‘What sorts of weapons does the group bear?’ he asked. Bullroarer recounted what arms they had, realizing as he ticked them off in review how meager a defense they were.

Olo’s face grew serious as he listened to the short list. ‘We will need to be very careful from here to the Last Bridge, Bullroarer. Very careful. There have been many reports of Wargs.’

[Envinyatar]

Carl had stayed by the fire as the others left, hoping to speak with the Bull before he went to bed. He nodded as he heard Olo say they must be very careful. That there were reports of Wargs in the area.

‘It’s more than just reports,’ he told them, motioning them near. ‘I wanted to tell you this earlier, but it got lost in the excitement of finding you and Giles and Branda, and in the welcoming of our new travelling companion.’ Carl tapped the burnt pipeweed from his pipebowl against the side of the fireplace, knocking it into the ashes of the firepit.

‘The Wargs are near. I saw their prints cross and recross the road on the east side of the village. They are as hungry as we are from this dreadful winter, and their desperation for food drives them closer to us. It is as the Ranger said, we must be very wary.’

[Calenedheliel]

Being one of the last of the group to head off to sleep, Daisy overheard Olo and her uncle talking about the dangers they faced heading out tomorrow. Then she heard Carl add that there were Wargs close by. Daisy had never seen a Warg but she heard some really horrible tales about them when she was growing up. She never thought she would ever see one because she lived in the Shire, but now she was on the road and would probably see one as it tried to attack them. She decided that she would be ready for them when they came.

Daisy hurried upstairs to repack her belongings so that her weapons would easier to get to it they were attacked. She would put her knives by her waist and carry her shield. The shield had a nice sharp edge and she could use as a weapon instead of a shield if need be. Once everything was packed Daisy sat down and started thinking about her family back at home waiting for her to return.

She missed everyone and couldn’t wait to get back to them. She hoped that she made back to them. When she had decided to go on this mission her family had tried to talk her out of going, They said that it would be to dangerous, but she didn’t believe them. Boy, she believed them now.

She wanted to introduce them to all the companions but most of all Gaddy. She really liked him and hoped he really liked her. She couldn’t tell because he always seemed so shy when she was around. He did let her comfort him after the wild dog attack and they did do a lot of talking then, but somehow that was different than wanting to get to know someone that you thought was special.

“oh well, I need to be getting my sleep because we have a long day and a long way ahead of us tomorrow.”
Daisy thought. With that she climbed into bed and fell fast a sleep.

[Child of the 7th Age]

After Olo had finished his conversation with Bullroarer, he beckoned to Branda to join him before he retired.

"Come with me. I haven't got much, but there are a few things that might help."

Olo disappeared back into the storage cupboard behind the bar, and with Volondil's aid, began scavenging through a pile of older weapons and tools. Most of them were designed for Men, and not something that a hobbit would feel comfortable carrying. Branda stood at the doorway, reluctant to barge into their private room without an explicit invitation.

"Come on," Olo gestured with his hand for Branda to come inside. He was holding out two sturdy leather shields that were sized for a hobbit. Both were old and battle worn but looked as if they could still stand up to considerable abuse. "For close in fighting, you and Tomba have only the short blades, plus the harpoon you carry. You need more defense than that. Take the shields for yourself. And these few other things as well. Give them to Bullroarer to whoever needs them the worst." Branda could see some arrows as well as a heavy crowbar, though still hobbit sized, whose blunt end had been honed to a fierce point.

"Thank you," the hobbit responded as he took the shields and other items. "But, Olo, aren't you coming to the room with the other hobbits. I know there'll be a bed waiting for you."

Olo laughed, "I'll definitely take up your offer tomorrow night at the Foresaken Inn. But as I'll be separated from my comrade Volondil for some time, I prefer to stay here this evening. But please, give a knock at the first hint of the dawn and be sure that I am up. He and I have had a long, weary week and little time to rest."

Branda nodded his head, struck by the idea that a hobbit would prefer the companionship of one of the big folk, even if only for a single night. He dropped the arrows and crowbar off with Bullroarer, and crawled off to his own bed. The boy was already deep in dreams. Branda slid his hand through Tomba's curls with some afection and sighed when he remembered their grim discussion about the wargs. He thought of his own wife and little girl waiting behind in the Shire, and quickly drifted into sleep.

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl awoke with a jolt from her lying position at the table. She looked up wearily and saw that almost the whole room had cleaned out.

"I must ‘ave fell asleep!" She jumped up, and moved to a foggy window. There where clouds filling the dark night sky. She groggily strolled to the stairs, and stopped for a minute to blink and wipe her sleepy eyes.

Holding on to the wall like she was drunk, she went to her room and sat on her bed. She thought about her dying brother at home, and she wondered if he was still alive. She picked up her knife and positioned it closer to her grasp. Her blankets, tarp, and camping supplies were tied in a tight bundle, where they could be used as a weapon if she needed.

She laid down her head and looked at the ceiling. She needed sleep and she knew it. After the next Inn, another may not come. She was afraid for herself and her companions. She only knew of Wargs from the stories her Mum and Dad had told her when she was little. She thought of them as fantasy creatures that didn’t exist. Now she knew the truth.

With a deep sigh, she rolled over. Her eyes closed on their own, and she drifted into a sleep.

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy woke up just before first light and looked out the window. It was snowing heavily again. She had hoped that when they left this morning it would be at the very least a gray sunless day instead of the snow. Daisy got dressed and went downstairs to get some breakfast. When she entered the common room she found her uncle was already up and ready for the trip today.

“Good morning, uncle, this is sure to be an interesting day with all of this snow and wind again.” Daisy said. “I was hoping for just another gray sunless day so that our vision would good for a fair distance, but that is not the case.” She continued.

Bullroarer replied, “I know lass, we will just have to make the best of it because we need to get going it we are to get back to the Shire and have anyone to feed.”

Daisy nodded her head and went and sat down to a nice hearty breakfast, which made her think of her mum and dad again. She hoped that they were still doing well. She couldn’t wait to see them again and to never step foot out of the Shire again.

Daisy looked around the common room many of the companions were still sleeping. She wished that someone would come down to join her because she really didn’t really have anything else to say to Bullroarer, besides he was busy with Olo planning a strategy for their trip today.

Daisy heard some noise from the stairs and turned around. Some of the hobbits were coming down to join her for breakfast. Gaddy and Hal were part of the group coming down. Seeing Gaddy made her heart fill up with joy. She stared at him as he approached the table. When he noticed her looking at him, he smiled at her and then blushed from head to toe. She could feel herself blushing also!

Everybody joined her at the table and soon the common room was full of hungry, noisy, and excited hobbits. They were ready for the long road today, but also a little wary of what lay ahead for them.

[Nurumaiel]

Robin awoke and sat up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She didn't want to wake up. Couldn't she just sleep until all the troubles had passed? Climbing out of bed, she got dressed and went into the other room to have breakfast.

She saw many of the hobbits were already awake, but Dinodas wasn't there. "Where's Dinodas?" she asked in a sleepy voice.

Nobody seemed to know, so Robin decided he was just sleeping in. She sat down to have some breakfast. She was hungry enough to eat anything... well... As she looked outside and saw the trees covered in snow, she thought differently. "I'm hungry enough to eat almost anything," she said quietly, not wishing to be overheard. "I wouldn't eat a tree."

But she was overheard, for one of the hobbit lads burst out laughing. She grinned back and began to dig into her food.

Robin was beginning to feel seriously worried when breakfast ended and Dinodas still had not shown up. She stood up and began pacing back and forth, and then happened to glance out the window. With a cry that startled the others, she ran to the door of the inn and flung it open. Dinodas was trudging through the snow towards the inn, holding a stack of branches in his arms.

"Dinodas Green, what were you doing out there?" demanded Robin angrily. "It's dangerous! What if you had been killed?"

"I'd have been killed sooner or later if I didn't go out," said Dinodas tiredly, setting down his branches and sitting down. "I'm nearly out of arrows, and I'm figuring we might be attacked by something soon, so I went and borrowed an axe from the innkeeper and cut myself some good branches. After I get some breakfast into myself I'm going to get out my knife and turn these branches into fine arrows."

"Why didn't you tell someone you were going?" Robin asked.

"I did," Dinodas protested. "No one was awake except Bullroarer and I told him where I was going. He didn't like it at first, but finally permitted me to go, after I told him why I was going where I was going."

"'Why I was going where I was going,'" said Robin. "You need to start making more sense, Dinodas. Just make sure you tell Bullroarer to tell me next time."

"Do you worry about me, Robin?" asked Dinodas with an impish grin.

"I worry about everyone in this company," replied Robin.

"Just like a girl."

"Be quiet and eat," said Robin, sitting down. "You could have taken me along."

"Too late," said Dinodas, and he said no more until his head finished his breakfast.

[piosenniel]

Child's post

Branda awoke with a jolt. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the Inn as big and little folk began the serious business of surviving in a time of hardship. Lying on his back and staring out at the whirling gusts of snow that were still beating againt the frosted window pane, he suddenly had the dreadful feeling that he'd seriously overslept.

Tomba had already gone from his bed, as had all the other hobbits. Every space was empty but his own, with the gear packed away and hauled down to the common room. For one minute, he wondered if his strange experiences from the night before might only have been a dream. Still, the new leather shield standing near his feet was reassuringly solid.

He hurriedly threw on breeches and shirt, plus several vests and a sweater, trailing his heavy cloak behind him. Then he ran downstairs, with packs and weapons in tow, to see if there was any breakfast left. Branda spied one spot left at the end table where Lotho and Carl were seated next to Dafodyl, and grabbed for the last few spoonfuls of oatmeal that were still left standing at the bottom of the pot. There were a number of catcalls and hoots from his companions about the problem of lazy hobbits. He hunched down lower on the bench, and turned a livid shade of red. Served him right for oversleeping!

Best get moving quickly, he thought. For already Bullroarer was calling out his name, to get the hobbits lined up with their belongings, and to make sure that Olo knew what to do nd where to go.

********************************************

Piosenniel's post

The early morning weather had been dreadful. Snow thick as lamb’s wool filled the air, and beat against the windows. By midmorning, when the Hobbits had gotten themselves all ready for travel, the weather had lightened, lifting their spirits considerably. The pale sun shone warmly on the frozen landscape, penetrating the snow and ice as it could. Bullroarer walked briskly to the stables to see to the ponies. The icicles were drip, drip, dripping from the corners of the roof, and he welcomed the small sign as a lucky one, even as a chilled drop of water hit the back of his neck and crept down his shirt.

He harnessed the pony to his wagon and pulled it out into the courtyard, bringing it to a halt in front of the Inn’s door. He pulled gently on the reins. ‘Whoa up!’ Branda was standing there, cajoling the companions into getting their belongings loaded onto the wagon. The Took could tell from most of their faces that an extra hour or two or three of sleep would have been welcome.

‘Got to take care of business while we have some sun to warm our faces!’ He jumped from the wagon and helped the younger ones heave their packs up to the small pile already there. He had already placed the box of gifts for Rivendell securely under the seat and now he lit a small, driving lantern and hung it on the hook by his seat.

‘What’s that for?’ asked Daisy, spying the feeble light of the hooded lantern. ‘It’s not dark yet, why did you light it.’

‘An admirable question Daisy!’ He waved his arms for all the Hobbits to gather round him. ‘I want you all to be sure you’ve got your weapons and armor handy for the rest of the trip. There have been reports of Wargs – both from Olo and from Carl, who has seen recent tracks nearby.

Bullroarer threw back the canvas tarp that had covered the long pile of brands from the Shire. ‘This is what the lantern is for – to light these pitchy torches should we have need of them. Should that occur – grab a brand, light it and stand ringed in a circle. We can put our bowmen inside the circle to defend us.’ He looked round at the now pale faces of the Hobbits. ‘I hope it does not come to that.’

Soon they were ready and Bullroarer called for them to head down the road. Bright sun cast shadows on the wary features of their faces.

[ January 14, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl had spoken briefly with Bullroarer earlier that morning. He had headed out, while most of the Hobbits lay dreaming under their blankets, to scout the road ahead.

The snow obscured the road and its surrounds for the most part. Filling in what few tracks there might have been, leaving only a smooth blanket of white before him. Carl ranged far afield on both sides of the road, looking for any signs of the Wargs.

Five miles out, and still clear. The weather had changed now, the sun making a brave appearance above the trees. New snow was melting from the surface of the road, running in rivulets to the edges of it, or standing in small frigid puddles in the wagon ruts.

His sharp eyes caught something a few feet away. Large, canine tracks, two different pair of them, had crossed the road heading northeast. They were lost where the two had entered the underbrush along the roadside.

He crouched down to examine them. They had been made when the dirt was wet, and would take the deep imprint of paw. Now they were frozen. It would be impossible to tell how long ago they had been made with what little information he had.

Carl stood, staring into the silent woods beyond the edges of the road, his ears alert for any signs. Nothing but the call of a small bird broke the quiet. He turned and ran back westward to where the others would soon be coming.

Bullroarer and the Ranger should know what he had found. He only hoped that the tracks were indeed old ones - that there was nothing to fear. Carl put those thoughts aside and picked up his speed with misgiving.

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy walked with the other hobbits behind her uncle’s wagon. The sun felt good, though the air was still icy cold. She looked around at the area they were walking in. Everything stood still and quiet except when the wind blew. The fields were still covered in snow that glistened in the sunlight. The trees and the road they were on provided the only color to be seen.

There didn’t appear to be any other life forms out there, but Daisy knew better. The hair on the back of her neck was sticking up. She couldn’t help feeling that they were being watched, by what or whom she didn’t know and that scared her. She walked over to Gaddy and Hal to stay beside them so that she would feel a little safer. She wondered if anyone else felt the way she did, but was afraid to voice what she was feeling, hoping that it wasn’t real.

The road they were on was a very bumpy road with lots of ruts in it. The sun melted some of the snow and now they were walking in muddy puddles. Some of the puddles were ankle deep and had created some very grumpy, wet hobbits, who couldn’t wait to get to the Forsaken Inn and get into dry clothing once again.

[piosenniel]

The companions were making good time down the road. The sun had lifted their spirits and made their steps lighter. It was not long before Carl found them and held a huddled conversation with Bullroarer and Olo.

Olo and Carl went quickly down the road to look at the tracks, while Bullroarer called a stop for second breakfast. It was a poor diversion, since all that was readily available were some dried fruits, but it gave Bullroarer time to talk to the Hobbits one more time about keeping together and staying alert. And it also gave the Ranger and Carl time to study the tracks and get back to the group with a warning if needed.

The Hobbits all piled onto the bed of the wagon and sat chatting, enjoying the brief rest and the warm light on their faces.

A short while later, Carl and Olo returned, telling Bullroarer to his great relief, that the tracks looked old and that they should be able to pass safely to the Forsaken Inn.

Just a few more hours and they would be there. The Took glanced up at the invisible stars and sent out a brief plea for an uneventful journey this day.

[ January 15, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl still felt uneasy about the number of Warg tracks he had seen in the past two days, especially so near the road and villages used so often by travelers. The Wargs were being driven into dangerous contact by the scarcity of food.

He ranged out again ahead of the group keeping his eyes and ears open. His blade was at hand, and he kept an arrow knocked to his bow.

[ January 16, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

As Ragnarok scrambled at the fence, Roth suddenly sat up. The wind had changed. A new smell was in the air... the smell of man. It took all of her willpower not to howl in excitement and alarm and instead, she turned to Ragnarok and butted him hard in the side. He turned, snarling, but stopped as soon as he himself caught the smell. Nimue crawled forward and bit through the thatch, and suddenly widened the gap with a particularly violent snarl as the chickens squawked. She immediately plunged forward and mercilessly thrust out a helpless chicken. Burying her teeth into its jaws, she put the chicken down in front of the cubs, who moved forward slowly, and then started nibbling the meat in front of them.

Roth was uneasy.The smell of man was stronger than ever.

[piosenniel]

It was late afternoon, and the weather had held up admirably for the remainder of their trek. Carl had not come hastening back with any warnings of danger ahead, and Bullroarer had been much relieved. The old saw, ‘No news is good news.’ kept running through his head.

An hour later and he turned south of the road onto a small dirt path, hardly big enough for the wagon to fit on. It was rutted even more than the main road, and looked to be infrequently used as well as in need of repair.

When they reached the court yard of the Forsaken Inn, it certainly did fit its name. The steps to the landing were bowed and one was broken. A window had been boarded over, and the ramshackle Inn was in desperate need of new paint. Bullroarer was relieved to see a small thin stream of smoke issuing from the chimney. ‘At least it’s not completely abandoned.’ He sighed to himself.

He had the companions unload the wagon and take the supplies into the Inn. The ponies he took to the dilapidated stable and found them each a stall where the roof above did not drip on them. Throwing a blanket over their backs, he fed and watered them and found some none too musty hay for the floor of their stalls.

The other companions had gone in by the time he got back to the Inn’s door. He stamped the mud from his feet off on the landing before he entered the scratched Inn door, taking care not to stamp too hard, lest his foot go through the flooring. Curious about the long, deep scratches on the thick oak door, he ran his hand lightly over them, gauging the depth of them.

His hand turned the handle, and he entered into the interior gloom of the Common Room. His eyes adjusted to the light, and he gasped quietly.

‘Oh, my!’ he muttered.

[ January 16, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl was at the fireplace when Bullroarer entered. He and Autumn had found the woodpile and brought in two armloads. They had sent Hal and Gaddy out for more, and Carl had asked Giles to split some of the wood into kindling with the rusted splitting maul they’d found out by the wood.

The Inn was a complete wreck. The Innkeeper a pale wraith of a fellow who kept mostly to his room, and when he did talk, his thoughts were jumbled and his eyes would grow round and frightened whenever there was a sound at the door.

The one clear thought they did get form him was that there were Wargs about and they had been here recently. When Carl had asked about the scratches on the door and the heavily boarded window, he began mumbling incoherently and retreated to his room, barring and locking the door.

Six of the Hobbits went upstairs and brought down mattresses to the Common Room. Daisy and Robin had swept the floor and moved the tables against the walls to make a space for them near the fire. Branda and Tomba went searching for food to cook.

Lotho poked around until he found the oil and candle supply for the lanterns, He filled them and lit them and set them about the room to cast back the gloom. Olo took one of the lanterns and gave another to Dinodas. ‘Let’s get the ponies from the stable and put them in here with us. I don’t want them out there alone.’ They brought them in and penned them in one corner of the Inn by stacking tables up for fencing.

Once the food supplies were found and a few dusty bottles of wine and two jugs of cider, Bullroarer took the cooking in hand and threw together a passable stew of dried meats and dried vegetables, with a few potatoes thrown in from the cellar. There was plenty to eat, and it warmed their bellies and took their minds from the sorry place they found themselves in.

Dafodyl had knocked on the Innkeepers door to offer him a bowl of stew, but he would not answer her.

When it began to get fully dark, Carl barred the door with a stout piece of oak that was leaned on the wall next to it . . .

[ January 17, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[piosenniel]

Carl took first watch that night. Even thought the door was barred, still the hobbits felt uneasy. They pulled their mattresses close to the bright flames of the fire, as if to keep the shadow from them. Carl sat in a chair by the fireplace, his feet propped on the raised stone hearth. He fed the fire when it burned low and listened to the moaning sound of the wind as it blew past the chimney and swept round the corners of the Inn.

Olo took the second watch, and then the third as he had not the heart to wake the sleeping Bullroarer. The night passed uneventfully without the slightest sound of someone or something trying to break in.

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ whispered the Took to the drowsing Olo, just as the sun shed its first light in through a crack in the window’s boards. ‘Lay down for a short rest, and I’ll get breakfast going.’

He found a passably clean pot and set the water to boiling near the built up fire. There was no oatmeal to be found in the Inn pantry, so Bullroarer took some from the Hobbits’ food supply and cooked it up. He had found a large pot of honey, and set it out for a sweetener. Another pot of water was warmed up for tea water.

The companions started to wake up as soon as the smells of breakfast and sweet spice tea tickled their noses. Carl was up and had taken the ponies out to the stable to feed and water them. He saw no signs of Warg or wolf tracks and was relieved.

Once breakfast was done, and everything cleared away, they loaded the wagon back up and made ready to leave. Bullroarer called a short meeting before the started down the road, reminding them that this was the last Inn until Rivendell. From now on out they would have to rough it. He also reminded them that they were going into an area of increasing danger, and that they were to stick together as they walked along the road and must not straggle off. ‘Keep your weapons at hand, and remember where the torches are.’

He lit the lantern that hung to the side of the wagon and put his club beside him. From beneath the seat, he took his quiver with the black, poisoned arrows mixed in with some of his own, and took out his bow and strung it.

Carl and Olo did not range ahead of the group, they stayed close, instead. Carl walked before the lead pony his eyes sweeping the road ahead and the forest to the sides of it. Olo brought up the rear, his bow in hand.

They headed north up the rutted roadway to the main road and then turned east again. There were grey clouds obscuring the sun, and the wind was brisk in their faces. No sign of snow yet as they headed toward Weathertop and past the Midgewater marshes . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

After several hours of steady marching, Bullroarer finally called a halt so the hobbits could rest by the side of the road. "We'll still need to post guards here. Autumn and Olo, could you take the first watch? But before you go, I've got something to share with everyone."

"Olo and I have been discussing how we can improve our odds against a warg attack. The main thing is to stick together, not to have anyone get separated. So, to make sure we do that, and to coordinate our attack, we're going to organize into small bands. I want you to remain in these groups on the road and even tonight after we reach our campsite."

"Every group will have one or two bowmen, with the rest carrying torches or other weapons. Now, everyone listen up, and pay attention to how you're assigned."

"Carl, can you lead Lotho and Daffodyl? Robin, you're in charge of Dinodas and Celendine. Autumn, you take Daisy, Gaddy, and Hal. I'll be working with Olo."

Bullroarer signalled to Autumn and Olo that they should climb up one of the nearby hillsides and have a thorough look around the countryside. "And let me know if you see anything suspicious," he added.

Branda shifted nervously from foot to foot, wondering why his name had been conspicuously left off the list. Giles looked puzzled, and Tomba darted forward, demanding, "What about me? You didn't say anything."

Bullroarer put his hand up to his forehead. He had so many things on his mind right now. "Sorry, Olo and I did discuss that," His eyes skirted over the three remaining hobbits, until they finally came to rest on Tomba.

"Tomba, if I had my way, you'd never be fighting wargs. You're the smallest and youngest here. But I don't have the luxury of pulling you out completely. I want the three of you to stick together at the rear. Try to scare off anything that gets through, but don't be heroes or advance to the front."

"That's it?" questioned Branda, with obvious irritation in his voice.

"No, that's not it. The real reason I want you back there is to keep an eye if anyone goes down. If they're hurt, I'm counting on you and Tomba to drag them out of there, and bring them back to the wagon to be tended. If we had done that before, ...." His voice trailed off.

Bullroarer sighed and continued, "Branda, you're the best healer we have. I need that even more than your fighting skills."

Giles politely interrupted, "Then what should I do? If they end up helping the wounded, I mean?"

"Giles, you can go forward and join another group, or stay back and try and guard them from attack. My worst nightmare is to have a warg charging while Branda is trying to tend someone who's injured."

Tomba kicked a stone in the dirt and growled, "I wish I was older."

"Well, you're not yet, lad, so just hang on. And Branda, what do you say?"

Branda looked back at Bullroarer, wondering if he was being punished for acting so foolishly when they'd discovered the Ranger hide-out. "I don't like it," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, like it or not, there it is. I'm responsible for you, and I'll use my resources the best I can so we'll all survive. Now, get yourself a bite to eat, since I'd like you and Olo to take the second watch on that hill and relieve the others."

Branda scowled again, but said nothing as he wrenched a lump of hard bread out of his pack and began gnawing at it.

[ January 17, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

It was a short meal, and a cheerless one. Hard to swallow dry bread with a throat made dry from anxiousness.

Bullroarer watched as the Hobbits put up their meager snack and took the last drink of water from their skins. He climbed on the wagon, and taking the reins in hand, clucked to the pony to urge it on.

Down the road, ever eastward, they trudged on . . .

[Auriel Haevasawen]

The wind dropped and with it the sound of the carnage in the hen house carried to the farm house. Roth yelped loudly, the scent of man filled her nostrils. All the wargs turned toward the building to see the yard illuminated by an orange glow. The back door had been opened.

Ragnarok pulled himself up to his full, massive height and glared at the females. If they thought they could challenge him for power let them show their mettle now. Ragnarok was well fed. He felt strong. This night he would not run. He would face his fear of men.

Nimue ushered the pups, sticky with the blood of the fowl, behind the wall of the hen house. She growled at them softly. It was a warning to remain where they were placed.

The farmer staggered out into the yard, calling to see who might have disturbed his hens and muttering about 'cursed foxes' but the Wargs took no notice and stood as three against him. Ragnarok centrally; the she-wolves on either side.

He slipped slightly on the ice as he held the lamp high to see. Six yellow eyes were fixed upon him almost level with his own. So transfixed was he by this it took him several minutes to register that the snow all around him was dark red. His chicken shed was almost destroyed and his poultry, torn to shreds at his feet. A single gust of wind blew feathers and not snow across his path. Still he stared at the blood stained Wargs. They seemed unreal to him.

Ragnarok opened his mouth wide and the yellow latern reflected the shine of his teeth.

Fear gripped the farmer and he turned to run back. Too late. To turn your back on a Warg is foolish indeed. They were upon him in seconds. His screams so loud the neighbouring farms ran to their windows, seeking out the source of such an unearthly sound.

They were not alone in hearing it. Close to the forest fence another depleted pack, persuaded by hunger to stray close to agricultural land stopped and listened. Their leader, a young male howled in hope.

Ragnarok stepped back from the farmer's corpse. Nigh on his whole head scarlet from the murder. He turned his head to one side, a move in echo of a domestic dog and listened. Had he been mistaken? The winter wind had almost fooled him before. No Ragnarok was not mistaken. Another wolf howled to him. He barked at the others and the now revealed pups but they were absorbed in a feeding frenzy that even he could not draw them from. Nimue was nearest. He dug his teeth sharply into the scruff of her neck and dragged her off what remained of the farmer's carcass. She snapped at him but soon heard the sound too.

Ragnarok sat back upon his haunches and howled in reply. It was a cold and frightening sound, more chilling than ever the winter's weather. The wargs had arrived amongst men.

[ January 18, 2003: Message edited by: Auriel Haevasawen ]

[piosenniel]

They were happy for once that it was winter. The companions had just passed the Midgewater Marshes, and a few recalled stories to their fellow travelers of swarms of tiny voracious bugs swarming about their face and feet without relief. A few more miles down the road and they would set up camp.

It was an hour before sunset when they reached a likely looking place. To the north of the road, between the marshes and the Weather Hills they found a small clearing in a thick tangle of winter bare trees. The trunks of the trees would at least break the wind that was starting to pick up, and the clearing was big enough for them to pull their wagon in and have a nice sized fire.

The companions were tired and hungry and it didn’t take them long to set up camp and start the fire for a well deserved hot meal.

[ January 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl moved through the outer perimeter of the camp, beneath the trees, taking Hal and Gaddy with him. ‘Pick up as much downed wood as you can from the ground.’ he instructed them. ‘I want us to have a large pile of wood for the fire tonight. It will be cold out here, and whoever keeps watch will want to have a good supply to ward off whatever might come nosing around in the darkness.’

Hal and Gaddy did not like the sound of that last bit. ‘Come nosing around in the dark? What are you thinking of?’ one of them asked, as he piled more wood onto his arms.

‘I saw Warg tracks crossing the road we travel on.’ said Carl. ‘I haven’t sighted the beasts, but where there’s tracks, there’s the Wargs that made them. That’s why Bullroarer wants us to be so careful and stick together.’

Carl stepped on the middle of a long downed branch, breaking it in two. He loaded it on to Hal’s arms and picked up a few more pieces for himself. He spoke to the two over his shoulder as they headed back to camp.

‘Keep up lads! You’ld be naught but two mouthfuls to a hungry Warg!’

They hurried to catch up.

[ January 18, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[dragoneyes]

Hal and Gaddy followed Carl closely back to camp, checking behind them frequently for any signs of movement or any hint of anything sinister in the fading light.

When they reached camp, they welcomed the sound of other hobbits bustling about and the many eyes on look out for anything. The fire was fed and the remainder of the wood put in a pile nearby. Hal went to care for the horses while Gaddy helped Daisy set up the cooking things. They were having fish stew and it wasn't long before it was bubbling away happily in the pot.

Gaddy's front, being bent over the fire, was good and warm and his eyes were starting to water from the heat. His back however, was cold as it had been ever since they left the Forsaken Inn. The wind was picking up and Gaddy could feel it playing about in his curly hair and occasionally whipping about his cloak. How he would've liked to have been on a spit slowly turning above the fire, being warmed all over.

"Gaddy, it's ready, would you pass a bowl?" Said Daisy, waking Gaddy from his thoughts, he had stopped halfway through stirring the stew. He gained a slight redness about his face and mumbled something along the lines of "Sorry, Here's a bowl". Passing her a bowl and trying to hide his reddening face, though not all too well, he tried to look on the bright side. At least all that blushing's warmed you up! And it had, he was decidedly warmer than when he had started 'speaking' to Daisy. It was a nuisance though, not even being able to talk to someone properly.

At the call of dinner, All the hobbits came and sat at the fire, getting as close as they could to the fire and each other, letting as little heat out as they could possibly manage. Gaddy could feel through his clothes Hal's cold arm,
"Hal, you're freezing!" he said,
"That's what you get for working in the freezing cold." Hal replied.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Giles gulped as the slimy reek of fish stew assaulted his nostrils. Gaddy and the others were smiling as broadly as kings in a banquet hall. Well, now came the test. Giles shuddered more than necessary in front of the fire, held out his hands to warm them, sat stretched until his toes were comfortably toasty, waited until the others were paying rapt attention to the inside of their bowls. *

* At last he could no longer delay the inevitable. Trudging over to the origin of the horrid smell, Giles held his breath, hoisted the ladle, dished himself a helping of stew, consoled himself with the thought that he could easily pick out the nasty fish-pieces and toss them back into the pot. *

* Clunk, plink, plonk, plunk. There! Giles looked into his bowl, but his face fell. Now all that was in there was hot water coated with a greasy bilious film of fish oil. *

* There was nothing for it. Giles dunked the ladle back in and scavenged the four torment-laden fish morsels. Closing his eyes, he swallowed them as best he could without chewing, then drained the broth with a body-tingling, quite necessary though quite involuntary, shudder. *

* Giles slinked quietly off to his bedroll and huddled deep inside, squinching his eyes tight shut and clutching his stomach. Trying not to let the queasiness win. *

[ January 18, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda was perched on the top of the hill standing watch while the other hobbits finished their dinner. His fingers gripped tightly round his bow, as he peered cautiously from one side to the next, trying to make out any suspicious signs or hints of danger. On the face of things, all was quiet. But he still did not like the look of the landscape in front of him. He couldn't put a finger on exactly what was bothering him, but he had a queasy feeling in the bottom of his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the greasy fish stew.

Finally, he figured it out. It wasn't how things looked, but rather how they sounded. Or, to put it more simply, the fact that he could hear no sounds at all! The usual noises of the night were missing. There were no scampering feet of tiny night creatures, no hoots coming from the snow owls who usually stood guard in the trees above, not even any barking from distant farmdogs. The whole place was so quiet that it was uncanny.

Branda pulled his cloak closer about his shoulders, reached down for the unlit torch, and sat hunched forward in front of the small campfire which Bullroarer had advised him to keep lit, as much a measure of protection as warmth. No, he did not like this situation at all. Why did Rivendell have to lie so far away? And why was the night so very, very quiet?

[ January 20, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Auriel Haevasawen]

The attack upon farm and farmer satisfied them for a short while.

The Wargs had waited in the snow by the gate for the wolves to join them and now they ran together across the farmland in search of a new kill.

Ragnarok felt invigorated. The fresh meat had given him new energy but it was more than that. The four wolves they brought with them gave him the feeling of once more being a leader. He ruled a pack. He was Ragnarok once more.

They holed up during the day and hoped to kill at night but the sound of their howls and the news of the slaughter at the farm travelled fast amongst outlying communities. They came upon farms they could not penetrate, guarded by barbed fence, fire and watchmen. More than once an arrow was sent skimming by their ears. Ragnarok may have overcome his fear of men but he still would take no irrational chances.

It was Roth who picked up the scent. It was that moment in the evening when sun had gone but the world was still visible in shades of darkest blue. The pups were failing again and lay exhausted at Nimue's side, unwilling to rise for the night's activity. The group were beginning to stir in the woodland hollow on a silent hillside they had chosen for their day's rest. Roth took in another breath of it. She stared straight into Ragnarok's eyes: challenging. Did he smell it too?

He did and stepped silently through the shallow snow to her side. They each breathed in the night air. Yes, there was a new scent. It was a living scent. It was not the scent of men but it was fresh.

The others shook snow from their fur and wandered aimlessly, stretching out their forelegs and yawning. They had not sensed the meal that Roth and Ragnarok had.

It was still an unusual odour to the Warg's nostrils. Ragnarok was hungry but he would take no risk. Since the incident with the sheep Roth had remained in line. Ragnarok decided to take a chance. Besides, if there was danger, it was better to lose her, than his own life. He would send her to investigate.

He walked her a little away from the pack, following the scent until it grew strong indeed. It seemed to come wafting up from the base of the hill where a road wound. Such things as roads did not concern them. The chance of a meal did. From their vanatage point at the bank top they could see nothing but a single curl of dark smoke issuing from the edge of the trees.

Ragnarok allowed himself a dark smile. He tapped Roth in the side with his muzzle and nodded in the direction of the smoke. Roth nodded in return. She new what was required of her. Silently she progressed down the hillside as the final shards of daylight vanished.

Ragnarok returned to the others, it would not be long.

[piosenniel]

They were grateful that they had come in beneath the trees. The cold wind was starting to pick up, and they could hear it buffeting against the trees. Bullroarer built up the fire a little, and brought the companions in close around its light and warmth for sleep.

*******

The moon was just past full, shining with a bright silvered light on the crust of snow that lay covering the ground. Celandine was restless, unable to sleep. She had seen, on their way into the clearing, a small patch of Snowdrop flowers in the tangle of a tree's roots.

It had been so long since she'd seen such pretty flowers. She thought of her grandma's house and the riot of flowers that used to grow there, before the weather had turned cold for so long. 'If I can just see them, I can go to sleep and dream about them.' she thought to herself.

She pulled her cloak about her, waiting for the opportunity to get away for just a few moments. Bullroarer had called the companion's attention and was listing off who would stand guard, and where they planned to travel to tomorrow.

No one noticed her as she slipped quietly from the edge of the group, walking in the shadows, and made her way quickly beneath the trees to where she thought she had seen the flowers . . .

[Auriel Haevasawen]

Ragnarok waited at the crest of the hill. Only moonlight illuminated the view below him now. The other creatures gathered about him and watched too. The woods were silent. A young and impetuous wolf moved to howl at the moon but Ragnarok issued a deep growl to silence him. This was not a night for howling. They would wait for Roth. They would use stealth. They would be fed.

[ January 19, 2003: Message edited by: Auriel Haevasawen ]

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl pulled her cloak up around her shoulders, and then pulled her sleeping bag almost over her head. A cool breeze ruffled her curly hair, and she tried to push it back. The wind picked up and pushed it back again, so she just let it fly.

The full moon glistened and made the snow seems as it was dancing. The night was silent, and not even the smallest cardinal was singing his tune. Her eyes were heavy, yet she could not close them. It was eerie, and she knew it was not right.

When Bullroarer was telling the group who would stand guard and when, she was not fully listening. ‘I hope he didn’t say I had to stand guard tonight.’ Dafodyl said to herself. She did not want to face a mad Bullroarer if she did.

[ January 23, 2003: Message edited by: ArwenBaggins ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl took the first watch as the Hobbits prepared to rest for the night. He had pulled on an extra sweater and had his cloak draped about him, hood up. His bow was in his hands, his daggers ready at his belt.

He built the fire up to a cheery blaze before stepping to the shadowy perimeter of its light. 'Better here, in the dark.' he thought. 'I can see who approaches as the light catches their eyes.'

Carl threw back his hood to give himself a better range of vision, and proceeded to walk the outskirts of the camp.

[ January 20, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Auriel Haevasawen]

They waited as the moon rose higher in the sky and still no Roth returned. Ragnarok grew impatient. Had she disobeyed him again? The Warg-wench was probably gorging on some tasty morsel while he and the others froze upon the exposed crest of the hill. Despite his suspicions, he had heard nothing. He was sure that had she been able to make a kill some sound would have reached him. He leaned his head from one side to another slowly, listening intently to the night. Nothing but his own empty stomach.

He decided to follow her. There had been no snow to cover her tracks and her scent was still strong. He let out one low, barely audible bark to Nimue in the absence of Roth he was forced to make use of her. She was unwilling to leave the pups and come to the fore. One of the wolves looked at the sickly creatures and licked a slow tongue along its upper lip. Nimue glared down upon the smaller animal but still was forced to leave the young with them if they hoped to gather any food that night.

Ragnarok led them over the precipitous edge and down into the trees, following Roth's tracks, footstep for footstep. The others glided behind him. Some of the path they took was too steep to walk so they slid in silence instead. Steadily they progressed toward the strange scent and the plume of smoke that Ragnarok had spied earlier. As yet he sensed no danger.

They disturbed no living thing amongst the trees for the night was still and nothing stirred. Even the incessant wind began to abate. He leapt onto the trunk of a long fallen tree and took stock of his surroundings. There was a low glow of light ahead. The pack soon joined him, lined up along the log like some bizarre ornament: silent, cold and still.

He would go no further yet. His keen eyes made out much. He saw a cart or wagon. He saw the horse; asleep upon his feet. He saw the small fire that he knew was meant to frighten him. His jaw curled into a grin.

The pups squeaked in the snow below him, lacking the strength to reach his vantage point. He alowed himself a low snarl to silence them. A single bound and he was over their heads and into the soft snow that had drifted against the woodland edge. His mouth filled with saliva as he began his approach. The pack fell into their places as instinct directed them.

He halted. A sudden sound had distracted him. He turned his head toward the left of the camp. His eyes burned at what he beheld. A lone creature, man-like in shape but shorter. Perhaps a man-pup: he didn't care. It was a female. It walked with caution and peered into the roots of trees. Perhaps it hunted food? Ragnarok glanced back toward the camp. Her scent was the same. Why make life difficult? The others had already spotted her too and gathered about his shoulder waiting for his signal. She was unguarded, she was small, she didn't stand a chance.

Ragnarok gave the signal. The pack serged forward. She was over come in seconds. Her screams echoed throughout the wood. Claws and teeth tore at her. The snow was quickly stained a dark and frightening shade. The screams were silenced. Hunger drove them to begin to devour her there. In the frenzy only a single arm was visible between the shoving bodies of two wolves. In her tiny pale hand she clasped a single snowbell flower.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda was the first to detect the bone chilling howls that rent the quiet of the night. He leapt up from the campfire, his face a mask of fear, clutching his bow tightly in his hand. It sounded like a great number of beasts, both wargs and wolves, congregating in a frenzy of feeding.

Bullroarer recovered his wits almost instantaneously and glanced swiftly about the circle, counting numbers and faces to make certain everyone was there. As realization slowly dawned, he gasped with horror, "Celendine, Celendine, where is the girl?" There was no response to his question.

Then strict discipline and hard routine took over, despite the terror of the moment. "Get your weapons. Form in groups. Once they've had blood frenzy, they'll not stop. Our scent is like a beacon drawing them forward."

Hobbits scrambled to take up swords and shields and flaming torches as the incessent howls of wargs and wolves abated for a single instant. The pack pulled back from the mangled remains of the corpse, and stood like frozen statues, searching for the scent that would draw them onward in their relentless quest for food. Then, with feet swift and sure, they spun about and charged with ferocity towards the small campfire, sensing the nearness of more fresh meat that might put an end to their agony of hunger.

[ January 20, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Calenedheliel]

A very loud horrible scream brought Daisy out of the dream world. She sat up and looked around for just a moment. Everybody was starting to move with Bullroarer directions. Daisy got up and ran to her weapons and then went to join Autumn, Hal, and Gaddy. As she approached her group she wondered who had made that awful noise. Looking around she noticed that they were a hobbit shy.

Daisy gasped as she realized that the screaming came from one the members on this trip. One of the girls that she hadn’t had the chance to get to know was missing from the campfire. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she knew they would have to wait for later. Something was out there and it was heading their way. She hoped that she was ready for this attack.

She reached her group and they stood and faced the forest waiting for the attack to begin. She was scared to death but she was determined to meet this attack head on.

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer called for the companions to form a large defensive circle. With the fire as the starting point, Giles, Daisy, Gaddy, Hal, Lotho, Daffodyl, and Dinodas ranged from one side of it to the other. They faced out, standing only an arm’s length away, each holding a flaming, pitchy brand. Spread out, behind them, were the five archers of the band – Autumn, Carl, Olo, Robin, and Bullroarer.

Within the circle, near to the fire was the wagon and pony with Branda and Tomba ready to receive any wounded.

The pack charged toward the companions, slowing a little as they saw the flaming torches that blazed toward them. When they had drawn quite near the Hobbits, Bullroarer bade Autumn and Olo to fire on the advancing beasts, as did he. No sooner had they loosed their arrows than did Carl and Robin let fly with theirs.

They repeated this pattern quickly twice more, bringing down two Wolves and one of the pups, whose hunger had pushed it beyond caution. The sight of their pack members falling prey to the weapons of the Hobbits drove the remaining two Wolves into a frenzy, and they leaped between the torchbearers trying to get at those who were firing on them.

The Wargs and the remaining pup then drew near the group, harrying the defensive outer circle. By this time, Bullroarer had begun firing his black arrows, trying to drive these larger beasts away. The Wargs split apart and began to seek entry points into the middle of the circle, hoping to cut some of the companions away from the protection of their fellows.

The Hobbits were sore pressed to hold the defense, and Bullroarer gasped as a Wolf leaped between him and Dinodas to knock down Robin . . .

[Envinyatar]

Carl fired his bow in rapid succession, wounding one of the Wolves, as it leaped across the perimeter and into the center of the circle. The Wolf struggled to its feet snarling. And Carl dropped his bow, meeting the enraged, charging Wolf with his knife flashing. The point of his blade met the Wolf’s throat as he leaped toward his assailant, and the weight of the falling Wolf brought down Carl beneath him, gashing his left arm deeply with its fangs even as it died.

The second Warg pup charged at Hal, meeting the flesh of the Hobbit’s right leg with his fangs and clamping down hard on it. Olo turned to his left and fired an arrow at it, causing it to let go its hold. The Ranger drew his sword and brought it down in a mighty arc against the neck of the pup, dropping it just as it strove to rend Hal once more.

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda stood by the wagon with Tomba at his side. Caught up in the madness of the moment, he grabbed his weapons and raced over to where the achers stood. His fingers itched to draw out an arrow and cock his bow, to fire again and again at these beasts who knew neither mercy nor goodness, but only insatiable hunger. One stern look from Bullroarer quickly set him in his place, and he retreated back with Giles and Tomba to the safety of the wagon, though with some misgivings in his heart.

As he'd been instructed, Branda kept a close watch on the attacking wolves and wargs from this safe perch. He could see the beasts twisting and pivoting between those hobbits who wielded bows and torches, snarling and snapping in their frenzied desire to still the stinging arrows and draw closer to their prey. In a single instant a wolf had pressed in between Bullroarer and Dinodas, slamming into Robin. The girl crumpled to the ground, and Branda sprang into action, glad to be doing something when so many of his companions were hard pressed.

Bow and quiver were discarded near the campfire, since these would be of limited use within a close range. Instead, Branda clenched a blazing torch in his left hand, and the silver dagger he'd taken from the tombs in his right. A great warg was just about to set his teeth upon Robin's shoulder, when the hobbit raced in, crouching low, waving the firebrand, extending it out in the direction of the beast's simmering eyes.

Instinct soon took over. Even with flame and dagger, Branda knew he could not singlehandedly take on such a foe. Moreover, his duty lay with Robin. The warg howled and spun away as the flame came near his shaggy coat, directly under his eyes. Branda grabbed onto Robin's collar, and with some strength he never knew he possessed, wrenched her up from the ground and slung her over his back. He did not look behind, but ran over near the wagon and laid her down as quickly as he could manage. He did not know at the time, but Giles and Tomba had helped cover his retreat with their flaming torches.

Branda's heart was pounding wildly, both with the sheer terror of having been so close to a monster like that, and with the fear that he may have injured Robin more grievously by his none too gentle touch. As he knelt down beside the girl in the accutomed position of a healer, he willed himself to quiet concentration and began to examine her.

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[dragoneyes]

One of the wargs, seeing her last pup brought down before her eyes, leaped towards Olo, trying to get back at him. Her slavering jaws were open, ready for more meat when she was pushed aside by the full weight of Hal. Landing on her side, she quickly regained herself and lunged at Hal. Her jaws, this time aiming for Hal's neck, instead, met his arm. She clamped down hard, burrying her fangs in his forearm.

Hal yelled as the warg tried to pull him down by his arm, he pulled back hard, knowing that the floor is the last place he would want to be. Blood ran down his arm and dripped from his hand, staining the pure snow, his bitten leg was shaking from the strain. An idea flashed in Hal's mind, the torch, use the torch in your hand! He brought the torch down on the warg's side and held it there. It wasn't long before the smell of burning hair reached his nose. The wargs eye's widened when she too realised what was burning. She let go, Hal lost his balance and fell backwards.

He lay on his back, clutching his arm. A thought hovered in the back of his mind, get up, get up! The wargs will get you! He sat up quickly as he could, sending himself dizzy as the blood rushed out of his head. He looked up expecting to see a warg bounding towards him to finish him off, instead he saw a figure standing over him brandishing it's own flaming torch. Hal's world stopped spinning and he was able to see that the hobbit infront of him was Gaddy, warding off any more wargs intending to take a bite out of his friend.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Giles clutched the round metal barrow shield in one hand, and a blazing torch in the other. He frowned, thinking how it would have made no sense right yet to loan the shield to Autumn, as she had both hands full with bow and arrow. His stomach after early bedtime had mostly recovered from the barrage of fish stew, settled into a tolerable dull ache. Celendine was gone. *

* Some of the wolves had grown bold enough to try and dash through the circle. One snarled charging towards Giles, but Giles stood at the ready. With nightmarish speed he thrust the torch against the onrushing wolf's neck. A satisfying sizzle of singed fur and roasting flesh sprang up. The wolf sprang back. Not only was a patch of fur completely burnt off from the area, but the fire removed the skin underneath as well, leaving a deep mark like a black eclipsed moon after swallowing up the last light of copper-red glare. But the trickling flames did not spread, for the wolf threw itself down yelping to roll in the snow. *

* A warg, seeing its downed ally, cried revenge and hurled itself atop Giles. Giles raised his shield at the last instant and huddled under it. The warg brought Giles crashing down, pinning the Hobbit beneath the shield. The torch, knocked from his grasp, flew through the air and landed on the back of the wolf that though dead, still pinned Carl to the ground. Meanwhile, the warg lurched its jaws towards Giles, ending up instead with a mouthful of brown wool cloak. Giles frantically squirmed out of the cloak and ran for it, having to leave his shield behind, for it had gotten entangled in the cloak. *

* Giles drew his red and gold serpent dagger from out of its black sheath to wield the weapon in his right hand. Rummaging around his vest pocket, he breathed a sigh of relief as he found his salt-and-pepper containers still there. He drew out the pepper shaker as though it were a magic treasure of Elf-make and looked around, wondering where to go. *

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Nurumaiel]

"Robin!" Dinodas shouted, and whirled around, bringing his club down on the head of the Wolf. It gave a yelp and leaped back, and then turned to Dinodas, its eyes glowing. "Branda!" the hobbit lad called as the Wolf advanced towards him. "Robin needs help!"

The Wolf suddenly jumped at him and he was knocked down, but he managed to kick it off him. Then he scrambled to his feet and hit it with his club once more. It gave a yelp and fell to the ground, dying.

There's one Wolf down, thought Dinodas, seeing that Branda had already rescued Robin. But how are we going to stop the Wargs?

[Child of the 7th Age]

Supporting Hal with an arm about his waist, Gaddy managed to drag his friend half-way towards the safety of the wagon. Tomba ran out to meet them, and together they brought the lad back to where Branda was seated, examining Robin.

Gaddy shot a strict look at the healer, "Take good care of Hal!" he commanded, with an earnestness born of deep friendship.

Branda nodded his consent, and told Tomba to begin cleaning Hal's wound. Before turning to go back into the fray, Gaddy quietly asked, "How's Robin?" His eyes were filled with concern.

"She should be alright," Branda responded. "We got her out in time. She's conscious, but in pain. I've given her something so she can rest."

Gaddy cast a lingering glance at the small girl whose eyes were closed in fitful sleep, with her wounds already dressed and bound.
Then he quickly turned and, with a seriousness that was new to him, went grimly back towards the companions who continued to battle on the ridge.

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Roth, on Ragnarok's command, had gone to trace down the new smell but found herself hungrier than ever as she padded on silently. Suddenly, she decided to disobey Ragnarok as hunger blinded her senses. She would go back to the farm they had passed a short while ago, and then follow the scent. Yes, that seemed a good plan.

***
Roth sniffed the night air once more. She smelt smoke, and blood. Licking the own blood off her lips when she had been lucky enough to kill a chicken, panic reared through her. Blood, Warg blood, was present in the air. Panic became replaced by anger as she remembered the scent of the blood which she recognised. It was one of the pups'. As she raced forward, she could see a group of man-like creatures wielding fire. They would pay for spilling Warg blood. Howling loudly, and tore over to group in enraged near-madness. An arrow whistled out of nowhere and grazed her shoulder, stopping her fast attack and causing her to slow down. Snarling, she ran at the source of her pain, at the man-like creature holding the weapon.

[Auriel Haevasawen]

Ragnarok had ceased to notice the remainder of his pack. His heart was turned to blood and that alone would sate him. His practiced hunter's eye caught out a hobbit separated from the rest. He knew not what these creatures were: he cared not. They were food. They were a pleasure to kill.

He had been cut in several places. A snapped arrow shaft protruded from his right haunch. He stopped a moment to pull it out with his teeth. It snapped again closer to his hide. He turned and glared and the little beasts. Blood from a cut above his yellow eyes had begun to impede his vision. They were a fraction of his size. How dare they think they could take him on and think they could survive?

He looked at the devastation about him. At least one of the wolves was down. The two remaining pups were hacked to pieces. He cared not but Nimue and Roth fought in a frenzy driven by revenge. Not grief: for Wargs do not know such a word.

A rock frantically thrown cast him a glancing blow. He turned to stare at he who had hurled it. Ragnarok pulled himself to his full height, towering over these little vermin. While all around him was mayhem. Ragnarok focused on one lone hobbit who stood facing him, apparently unarmed. The noise of battle faded from his ears. This was his prey, this little creature was his foe. Ragnarok breathed in, enjoying every quiver the little man made. Now to step forward, now to hypnotise with his eyes, now to move closer, now to breathe the same air, now to ...strike.

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Quiver Giles did, for without the protection of his cloak, the night wind too became an attacking foe, an invisible warg with gusty howl and fangs of ice. Yet the bulky cloak and clanging shield had limited his movement. Now that he'd lost them, his world became quick and free. And he'd rehearsed for this moment in his mind. So often, that vivid images of the actions he meant to take left no room for images of panic. *

* As the warg strode forward, eyes gazing with garish yellow glint, the very ground seemed to become the warg's ground. Giles shifted his weight onto his right foot, balancing his left foot lightly on the tips of his toes, poised. The serpent dagger became a centering force, a balance rudder in a mobile grip. The unobtrusive pepper container held leisurely as if to flavor bacon. *

* The waiting game ended. The warg launched itself in on Giles with scrabbling claws. But Giles caught the warg full in the eyes and nose with a dusty pepper-cloud. The warg retaliated with a swift jerk of its muzzle, knocking the pepper-shaker skidding across a patch of ice. *

* Giles used the momentary distraction to cartwheel himself up atop the warg's back. Landing among the coarse hairs in smooth acrobatic form long-practiced, Giles swung down his weapon hand, directing a successful dagger plunge into the straining beast. Blood flowed from the hole like a mockery of dark-daubed perfume, but did not seem to seriously impair the warg. Giles tugged at the weapon, cleanly pulled it free, gripped the handle tightly for another blow ... then suddenly remembered where he was and that he hadn't exactly planned this far ahead. "Now what?" he wondered. *

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy realized that Hal had been injured and Gaddy had gone to help him. She was standing all by herself. Her dagger was ready but she knew it wouldn’t be any help against the warg that now faced her. It’s snarling muzzle was getting closer and closer. She tried to stand her ground and not be frightened. All of a sudden the warg leaped right at her and she turned and tried to run. The warg sank its nasty yellow teeth into her leg and lifted Daisy up and shook her like a rag doll.

Daisy’s mind went blank as the searing pain sunk in. Her life was hanging in the balance, when all of a sudden the warg let go and down she dropped. Before falling into unconsciousness Daisy looked up and saw that Autumn was the one who had just saved her life.

[dragoneyes]

Gaddy watched as Autumn shot at the warg, saving Daisy, he also saw that Daisy was unconcious and injured. A great rage grew inside him, unlike he'd ever experienced before. It was the same warg as had hurt Hal, it bore the burn which Hal had given it. This warg had hurt his two closest friends in this group and he wasn't going to let it get away without it first knowing his anger.

He drew the knife he'd salvaged from the barrow, it glinted coldly in the firelight. Torch in left hand, knife in right, he faced the warg, staring it in the eye. He knew he should be wary of it, he was the same height as it, but the anger coursing through his veins told him that that didn't matter anymore.

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl pushed the Wolf carcass from off him and scrambled to his feet, pulling the knife from the Wolf’s throat. He could not find his bow, but grabbed up a burning brand dropped on the ground when when Hal fell, and charged toward the Warg bent on bringing down the Ranger.

Olo was slashing at the advancing Warg with his sword, but was rapidly loosing ground. His back was almost to the wagon where Branda and Tomba were caring for the fallen companions.

Carl saw the Warg prepare to leap at the Ranger. He took aim, and threw his knife with deadly force. It caught the Warg just above the right eye, cutting a deep furrow in the flesh, before hitting bone and glancing off. Blood spilled into the Warg’s eyes, and she shook her head violently trying to clear her obscured vision.

Olo rushed in, swinging his blade in an arc. He missed his intended target as the Warg’s head moved and sliced off the beasts left ear. Carl rushed in with his flaming brand and held it to the Warg’s face, where the knife had gashed her . . .

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer took quick stock of the chaos around him. A lone Wolf was working its way toward the wagon area and was menacing Tomba. The young lad had his small blade out and was trying to keep the Wolf from the injured Hobbits and from Branda who was trying to work on them.

Too close for a goo shot with the bow, Bullroarer waded in with his club, swinging it in a mighty arc. Tomba slashed at the beast just as it bit down on his left arm. The boy screamed and Bullroarer caved in the skull of the attacking beast.

Bullroarer gently hurriedly picked up the bitten Tomba and placed him on the wagon. He gave him a blanket to press against his arm, teling him to stay put until Branda could see to him.

Then, taking up his bow, Bullroarer knocked an arrow and took aim at one of the attacking Wargs . . .

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[Envinyatar]

Olo dropped the point of his sword as soon as he saw the Warg go howling away beyond the tree line. Carl’s thrust with the fiery brand to the already injured Warg’s face had driven the beast off.

Carl stood gasping for air. The fight had been quick and strenuous, and his ribs ached where the previous Wolf he had killed had knocked him to the grown with the dead weight of its body. Olo had dropped the point of his sword, and also stood wearily, head down.

They could see Bullroarer to their right, taking aim at one of the other Wargs. The Orcish arrow had been dipped in pitch from one of the unused brands and lit. Now it flew with a deadly accuracy toward the beast, burying itself deeply in the left shoulder. The Warg gave a yelp of surprise and then a howl of rage as the arrow bit deeper with its fiery tip. The long hair where the pitch stuck blazed up, pushing the Warg to a frenzy. He ran after the other escaping Warg, beyond the perimeter of the clearing, and rolled in the snow trying to bring himself some relief.

Carl and Olo pulled back to where Branda and Tomba were. Three Hobbits looked to be seriously injured, and the healer had his hands full taking care of them. ‘My injuries can wait.’ said Carl to the Ranger. Olo nodded his head in agreement.

They gathered in others of the Hobbits who had suffered injury and began treating their wounds as best they could, leaving Branda and Tomba free to work on those more grievously hurt.

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Child of the 7th Age]

The ponies had been safely stashed beyond the far hill, which was to the extreme rear of the campsite, tied securely to a ring of trees. Ever since the sound of attack had filled the night with horror, the animals had reared and tugged against their halters, in a frantic attempt to take off into the night.

If he'd had any warning at all, Bullroarer would have advised the hobbits to loose the ponies and swat them on the rumps, sending them scurrying in the opposite direction. By morning, when all was quiet, they would all have come trotting back, looking for their owners and a fresh mouthful of hay. But there had been no time to think of ponies, or to hear their terrified whinnies, which were drowned out completely by the fierce noise of battle.

Somehow, someway, one of Branda's horses managed to pull his tether loose. Mad beyond knowing, he reared up and plunged forward, not to the safety of the hills, but running swiftly southward towards the campsite itself where the battle was still being fought.

Branda's heart sunk as he saw his pony slip past the wagon. An unguarded pony on the loose would not last long. The wargs would soon catch the animal's scent and realize that this source of meat carried no torches or arrows for protection, but could be swiftly killed and dragged off to the safety of their lair.

Then, out of nowhere, another thought flooded though his mind...better my pony, than any more of our companions hurt or injured.

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer was weary. Sweat stung at his eyes, though the night was chill. The battle had wound down. Four Wolf carcasses lay dead within the circle they companions had formed, along with the bodies of the two Warg pups.

He had seen two of the beasts run north from the fight and disappear beyond the circle of trees that ringed the clearing. They had been injured, driven away from the companions by sheer determination. He rubbed his arm across his eyes clearing away the sweaty film of battle. A lone Warg stood watching him from the inner perimeter of the trees, its baleful yellow eyes catching the firelight. Pacing back and forth, it looked as if it were deciding to charge once more or to join its fellows. From the corner of his eye, Bullroarer saw a frightened pony take off, away from the battle scene and go running toward the supposed freedom and safety of the trees.

The Took knocked his last black arrow and took aim. The fell creature looked straight at him, nodding his head once, as if in momentary acquiescence. With a snarl, and one last look over his shoulder, the great beast turned and sped away. It had caught the sight and scent of the pony and now ran after it, seeking easier, less hurtful prey.

Bullroarer heaved a sigh of relief and loosed the tension on his bow string. Placing the arrow back in his quiver, he shouted to Dinodas, Lotho and Dafodyl to come in close to the fire. ‘Build it up.’ He instructed them. ‘Nice and bright and high.’ Gaddy, Giles, and Autumn come with me.’

The three with Bullroarer broke into two teams of two each and dragged the Wolf and Warg pup bodies to a space away from the Hobbits campsite – to a place downwind of the campfire. They piled the carcasses together and threw some sticky pitch brands in among them and a layer of wood.

The pyre blazed up, a reeking warning to any others who dare attack. The four weary Hobbits dragged back to the campsite, to see if there were any other help needed . . .

[ January 21, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

[ArwenBaggins]

Dafodyl grabbed sticks and threw them on their growing fire. She had received a gash across her face, but nothing serious. It burned when she would blink, so she tried to keep her eyes open as long as possible.

She thought about how that young lass, Celedine, died like that. Dafodyl never really gotten to know her. ‘How could I have been so foolish by not asking about her? I can not believe we have lost two already.’ She said to herself when she was picking up a stick. Her eyes was caught by a bunch of snowbells.

She bent down and picked up a handful of snowbells. Her soft tears dripped down her face. Some left little holes in the snow, and some froze to her face. She shook her head, and hugged the flowers tightly.

"What is the matter Dafodyl?" Dinodas said as he put his hand on her shoulder. He smiled. "You shouldn’t cry when ‘tis so cold out here. You could freeze your cute little face!"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you Dinodas."

[Envinyatar]

Leaving Olo to bandage the last of the Hobbits with minor injuries, Carl took Lotho out beneath the trees to gather in more firewood. They brought a blanket with them and piled on the downed branches. 'This should be enough to see us through the rest of this night.' said Carl as they pulled their findings back to the fire.

He started a large pan of water heating, and when it had come to a boil, he made tea and passed it round to the companions, many of them shivering not from the cold but from the after effects of the attack.

Branda was sitting on the back of the wagon, Tomba asleep beside him, head on the older Hobbit's leg. Carl handed the weary healer a cup of steaming tea, and offered to watch over Daisy, Hal, and Robin while he stretched his legs a bit . . .

[ January 24, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas smiled back at her. "I can't stay long," he said, sitting down. "Branda may need my help once again caring for the injured."

He took one of the sweet flowers from Dafodyl's hands. "Snowbell," he said softly. "It's so beautiful..." He turned to look at Dafodyl, a sad expression in his eyes. "We're all going to miss Celandine," he said. "Even though none of us spoke very much, we still became friends by just being around each other. But she's happier now than she's ever been, and though we'll miss her, we should not mourn overmuch for her. She's in peace, and she's happy."

"But who will go next?" asked Dafodyl, tears suddenly springing to her eyes again.

"No one," said Dinodas. "Or, at least, I hope not. I'll do my best to keep us all safe. Though," he said with a little grin, "I'm not the leader, I feel it my duty as a man to look after you girls. And I can begin with you. That gash really needs some treating."

"It's not that serious," Dafodyl protested.

"Any wound can be serious when it's brought by a wild animal," said Dinodas. "Come on over to Branda and I'll treat it for you, and then see what I can do to help him."

[piosenniel]

He rubbed his hand across his eyes, breathing deeply. His face was drawn, grimed with sweat and dirt and the blood of the dying Wolves he had dragged to the fire. So tired, he thought, and still so far to go.

Bullroarer shifted his weight on the rock he sat on and looked up as Carl offered him a mug of tea. He nodded gratefully as the man walked on. The feel of the warm mug was a welcome relief against the chill in his fingers. A few sips of the fragrant liquid lifted his spirits as well.

He hoisted himself off the rock and walked stiffly to the wagon. The injured Hobbits were sleeping, warm beneath their blankets. So pale and fragile they looked, these little warriors. Bullroarer looked West and sent a small plea. 'Let them heal quickly, in body and spirit.'

The Took paused near Daisy and brushed the side of her face with his hand. 'Come on, girl! You and I still have some snares to set and some hunting to do. Got to keep this hungry band fed!'

Gaddy was standing between Daisy and Hal, griefstricken at the sight of them. His eyes puddled with tears, obscuring his sight. Bullroarer tapped him on the arm, drawing his attention to the two. 'Look, Gaddy!'

Daisy stirred beneath her blankets, her eyes fluttering open . . .

[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda sat quietly on the back of the wagon with Tomba's head nestled on his knee and his own legs dangling outside. He was bone-tired and his heart weary beyond belief.

For Celendine, he'd been able to do nothing. He needed to speak with Bullroarer about proper treatment for the sparse remains that were left after the wargs' attack. There was no question of sending what remained back to the Shire. They were too far away to think of that as an option, and, more importantly, the family would not be consoled to see how the girl had died. Perhaps, they might burn the remains, and scatter them over the land, or take the ashes back to her home town in one of the golden urns that Autumn had taken from the Barrows with thoughts of giving it to the Elves. He would speak to Bullroarer and leave the decision to him.

In any case, it was Celendine he missed, her soul or fea. The body was a simple case to hold it. The remains needed to be treated with respect, but whether the ashes were scattered here where they stood or taken back to the Shire was a secondary matter.

One thing was certain. They needed to get on the road again as quickly as possible. The wargs were still enjoying their full bellies, especially with their attack on his pony. They needed to take advantage of that little respite. Still, the companions should stop for a moment to remember Celendine about the campfire, to talk about the girl and how they would miss her, and let the wounded have a few hours of rest before pushing on.

There was one other thing Branda resolved to discuss with Bullroarer. He was very certain of one thing. Although no other hobbit had died in the attack, many had been sorely wounded. There was no way they could possible beat off another attack by the wargs, even if it was only two or three. If that happened, they would all perish here in the wastelands, and no food would get through to the Shire.

There must be another way to deal with this, he thought. At first Branda had hated the beasts with a passion, for their cruel attacks and dark ways. Yet, part of him couldn't help thinking....I also attack and kill beasts to feed myself....does that make me evil too? We killed the baby wolflings. Does that make me a tool of the shadow? What Man or Hobbit wouldn't be angry if they found themselves in a similar situation where a creature attacked a young child, even if that child was flailing out at him?
All these questions made his head spin.

Branda wasn't sure whether wargs were like Orcs, who seemed to be helplessly mired in the shadow with no chance of escape. Or maybe they were more like a type of giant wolf, who would stick to their packs and not bother Man as long as they could get enough to fill their bellies.

For one minute Branda formed an amusing picture in his mind, seeing himself laying out food for the wargs to keep their bellies full and their minds off of tasty hobbits, much as he himself brought hay to his ponies. Stop being ridiculous, he berated himself. We can barely find enough food to feed ourselves. How would we ever come up with provisions for such large beasts, even if they would take it and leave us alone? His ideas seemed so ridiculous that he vowed to keep them to himself, and not say anything to Bullroarer, other than pointing to the fact that the hobbits could not possibly survive any further warg attacks.

[ January 24, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[piosenniel]

Bullroarer walked round to where Branda still sat. The healer had declined the offer of Carl, choosing to stay close to his charges. ‘The weather will hold for us for another few days.’ said Bullroarer, glancing up toward the cloudless sky. ‘Can we get the companions on the road by tomorrow? Will those who are sorely hurt be alright to ride along in the wagon?’

Branda brought up the subject of Celandine, and Bullroarer sighed deeply. ‘Another one gone.’ He looked about at the weary circle of Hobbits. ‘We can’t take her back. We must go on and soon to Rivendell.’ His brow furrowed as he glanced into the darkness beneath the trees. ‘And I don’t relish the thought of leaving her for the Wargs.’

He called Carl, Lotho and Giles over to him. ‘Build up a fitting pyre for our fallen companion. Dafodyl, Gaddy, and Dinodas – you give them a hand. Make it far away from that other pile.’ He pointed toward the burning Wolf carcasses ‘Put one of the pitchy brands in it so it will burn hot and clean. When it’s done we’ll lay our friend’s body to rest.’

Bullroarer gently laid Celandine’s blanket wrapped body on the platform of the branches. The Hobbit’s gathered round, and a hush fell on them as Bullroarer lit the wood. Each of them spoke a few words in their hearts to her as the flames burned bright, and some threw small white flowers into the pyre, watching them float up on the heated currents and then burst into flame.

Once they were done, and the flames had burned down a little, Bullroarer bade them all move in close to the fire to sleep as best they could. Tomorrow they would once again be on the road, going East.

Branda was just taking a final look at the three in the wagon when Bullroarer pulled him aside for a whispered conference. ‘I fear that the Wargs will not be held off long, even by one fat Shire pony. We must come up with some plan to get by them safely.’ He looked closely at the healer. ‘I am at a loss at the moment. All the ideas I have churning in my mind don’t seem to work out well for us as I follow them to their end. We’re tired, and injured, and dispirited by the loss of another companion. Is there anything you can think of that we might do to give us a safer passage?’

[Gandalf_theGrey]

* Giles bowed thanks as Carl handed him a cup of tea, cupping the cup within benumbed fingers. Indeed, Giles was one who shivered with cold, for the warg had torn his wool cloak to shreds. The resulting brown unravelled knotted yarn of rags and ribbons was completely unsalvageable as a garment. Nothing else he had could match or fully replace his cloak in terms of warmth and comfort. The best Giles could do was rummage around for spare clothes in a sack he'd slung on Puddlejump the Pony. At last he fetched an extra sweater and a loose-fitting blue Dwarven hood that flopped about in the breeze . If the mood hadn't been so subdued on account of Celandine's death, his fellow hobbits would surely have laughed merrily, pointed, and called him "Giles Bluehead" or the like. As it was, one or two smiled faintly with their eyes while maintaining a proper air of respect for their fallen companion. *

* Giles battle against the warg he'd leapt up onto had ended with the creature flicking its head, flinging Giles onto the ground, and retreating towards the woods after a runaway pony. The cloak, as mentioned, was lost. His beloved pepper shaker, gone missing. Fortunately, he'd been able to recover his round metal barrow shield. *

* Giles had been glad when Bullroarer gave him a part in the task of toting wood and building the pyre for Celandine, along with Carl and Lotho. Fighting the wargs, he'd felt, wouldn't bring Celandine back. In the midst of the business of defending himself and everyone left in camp, in the midst of reminding himself that they had to defeat the wargs if they were ever going to return with food for a hungry Shire, "but Celandine ... " he held the thought carefully, like holding his breath, as though to forget her in the heat of battle would be to do her further harm. Giles was glad he hadn't been present to witness the first death that had befallen his group. He hoped against hope not to witness any more. *

[Calenedheliel]

Daisy slowly opened her eyes and tried to move. She was hurting all over and it took a few minutes for her to remember what had happened. She looked up and saw that Gaddy was watching her with so much pain, sorrow, and concern in his eyes.

“Gaddy” she whispered. “Who else is hurt and am I going to be okay?” she continued. Gaddy moved over a little and Daisy saw that Hal was also hurt, as well as Robin. Daisy started to cry and reached for Gaddy to hold him for her comfort as well as his. He really looked like he needed it more than she did.

Daisy tried to close her eyes to go to sleep but the images of the wargs come after them kept creeping into her mind and would not let her forget. Suddenly she remembered that she and the others may have been injured but Celandine had been brutally killed by the wargs. The thought brought tears to her eyes again.

Slowly the pain started to make Daisy weary. She closed her eyes to get some rest because she had overheard some talk about getting back on the road in the morning and she wanted to be well rested for it would be a long day.

[dragoneyes]

Gaddy let Daisy go back to sleep. His bout with the warg had ended with the warg running, though not because of Gaddy. Gaddy could remember clearly the mocking in the warg's eyes, asking why something so small should dare go against it. Gaddy had tried not to cry, and had succeeded so far, it wouldn't help anything if he cried. Instead, he thought of anything but what was going to happen to them all. His thoughts travelled back to happier times at home, but the picture of his thinning family and bare larder kept interfering.

He thought then of Celandine, he had never got to properly know her but her loss would still be felt. He didn't know Robin all too well either, he now made sure that he would speak to her more. From there his mind roamed to Daisy, he'd been told she'd be fine, his heart had been made lighter when she'd woken up and he believed that she was going to be alright.

Finally, he thought about Hal, never before had he seen him look so helpless, even when he'd had his head trapped between the cartwheel and the kerb, it'd been him who told Gaddy what to do. Gaddy looked back at him, his face so pale in the firelight, scenes of the fight flashed before his eyes, when he'd first noticed that Hal was being attacked and not been able to do anything. He shook his head, he didn't want to think about that now.

If Hal had been awake, he would've been comforting him now, but he wasn't and everyone else looked busy, he didn't want to interrupt them, they were doing more important things. Gaddy felt alone, he wanted to sleep but he also wanted to be there if Hal woke up. Gaddy gave up on holding back the tears, he sat down and rested his head on his arms, letting the tears silently run down his cheeks and drop onto the snow.

[ January 25, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[Auriel Haevasawen]

Deep in the woods, several feet from the mangled remains of a Shire pony Ragnarok rested. He curled in the roots of an ancient tree, unsure in the darkness if the others were near. They had also laid down to rest after devouring the animal but he neither knew nor cared how close they were.

He set about licking his wounds. He was cut in many places but at least he wasn't burned like the others. His worst wound was the arrow. A fragment of it's shaft still protruded from his thigh. He bend himself almost double to reach it. Steadily he clasped his jaws about the wood and pulled. The searing pain of the head ripping from his flesh made him want to let out a wolfscream but he could not loose the shaft until it was clear of his skin.

He continued to yank slowly, his pale eyes watering with the pain. Eventually he was free of it and it landed with a thud upon the brown snowless earth beside him. Blood spurted from the deep gash. Ragnarok writhed in agony. Even a full stomach was no solace at such a moment. He passed his rough tongue over the wound repeatedly. Not for Ragnarok a healer. He had nothing but time and the need to keep it clean. He kept up his licking for as long as possible but loss of blood and exhaustion soon had the better of him.

Sleep came to Ragnarok: sleep and thoughts of revenge.

[Ringwraith Number Two]

Roth collapsed next to Ragnarok, too weak to stand proudly even after managing to eat some of the pony. Every limb in her body ached, and her shoulder felt as if it had ripped off. Wincing, she raised her head to survey the damage, her heavily-injured eye closed. She was bleeding profusely, and painfully and slowly sniffed it. She sensed that something was buried in there. Carefully probing with her teeth, they knocked against something sharp- the remains of an arrow. Roth gathered all her willpower and roughly pulled it out, spitting it on the ground. The gleam of the arrow shone wickedly up at her and wavered alarmingly as Roth's eyes watered with pain and mingled with the blood. She could feel warm, sticky blood pouring down her side. Closing her eyes, she settled into a sleep, escaping the pain of reality, the smell of her own burnt hair and flesh infiltrating her dreams.

[Child of the 7th Age]

‘I am at a loss at the moment. All the ideas I have churning in my mind don’t seem to work out well for us as I follow them to their end. We’re tired, and injured, and dispirited by the loss of another companion. Is there anything you can think of that we might do to give us a safer passage?’

Branda opened his eyes wide in disbelief as he listened to Bullroarer's somber words. He had never heard the Took so dispirited before. Bullroarer obviously did not believe that the band could withstand another warg attack. If that happened, they would never get through to Rivendell, and untold numbers of hobbits might die in the Shire.

But then, Branda reflected, neither do I think we can fight off the wargs! The Stoor fisherman searched around for something encouraging to say and suddenly found himself thinking about his Granny's words she'd given him just before he'd left the Shire:

So you're taking your bow and your dagger with you? You'll need those alright, but just don't go forgettin' and leavin' your head behind. When it comes to gettin' your way out o' a jam, the best weapon for a smart hobbit is usually craft and deception.

Branda certainly did know that. After all, he was a fisherman. The way he caught fish was not by bludgeoning them on the head. You had to think like a fish, to put yourself in the place of a fish and figure out exactly what they wanted and where they might be hiding and then outsmart them.

Indeed one of the ways Branda caught fish was to cast slimy old fish heads and entrails out from the side of the boat into the water, and pretty soon he'd have a whole school swimming around him, practically jumping into his little boat. And those darn fish were so busy eatin', they didn't even notice when he slipped nets out into the water. In fact many of them happily swam straight into them.

Branda expected that slipping nets over the heads of wargs wouldn't be terribly practical, but just keeping them busy eating seemed like a good thing, since they were likely to pay less attention to hobbits.

"Bullroarer, I do have an idea. I'm not sure how practical this is. But I think we have to start thinking of wargs as if they were fish, big and dangerous fish, but still fish. And fish are smart, but hobbits happen to be even smarter."

Bullroarer raised his eyebrows and looked a bit startled at Branda's words, wondering if the events of the day had finally gotten through to the lad.

Branda ignored the look on the Took's face and continued with his explanation, "When I catch fish, I try to give them a little of what they want, which is bait, so I can get the big thing I want, which is popping a net over their heads to catch and eat them. Now, wargs, I'm not so sure what they want. But my guess is this. You'd feed 'em a whole lot of meat, and keep them happy eatin', while you made progress down the road."

"But honestly," Branda continued. "I've no idea where to get that kind of meat in these times. It would have to be something big, really big. The biggest thing you could think of. Something so big it might give the wargs a stomach ache. So first they'd eat, and then they'd lay down on the ground to moan, and they'd just plain forget about everything, at least for a little while."

"Maybe, if we could bring down a whole string of deer, it would work. But I sure haven't seen any deer on this trip. Rabbits and fish and birds, things like that, are just too small to matter."

"I've even thought of sacrificing the ponies, but that doesn't seem like the right thing to do to old friends. Plus, how would we carry enough food back from Rivendell? We need every pony we have. And to tell the truth, I think we need something bigger than ponies, but I can't imagine what that would possibly be."

Bullroarer sat silent for a minute and then a grin played across his features, The lad wanted 'big'. Well, he could certainly give him 'big.' Nice and big and stupid, as stupid as you could get. He clapped a hand on Branda's shoulder and assured him. "Lad, your words may be wiser than you know."

Bullroarer pulled out his`map and stared down at it, carefully noting the track which led into Rivendell. He put his finger on the map and stared down at the area just east of the Last Bridge.

Bullroarer sat down and reflected a minute. He didn't know much about wargs, but he did know a bit about wolves. And he figured the two might be similar in their habits and their home territory. Those wargs weren't originally from this area where the hobbits were now travelling. They had to come from the wilderness, either east or north, where no men lived, probably in a mountainous or wooded area. Lack of food had forced them out, and that's why they were roving west towards the settlements of Men and Hobbits.

Bullroarer stared again at the map. His best guess was certainly east. Maybe it had been more than lack of food that drove the beasts out. As far as he could tell from the map, there were only two types who dwelled there. Maybe the wargs hadn't gotten along with the others so well, and they would be glad to see the others gone. That would make Branda's scheme for feeding the wargs an even better tool."

"Branda," Bullroarer barked, "This lad Tomba, is he good at things like stealing keys, or picking locks, or slipping out of ropes?"

Branda blushed deeply, "Actually, he's very good at those things, but I tell him not to do them." The Stoor looked alarmed, "Has he been doing those things again? The other day he was showing one of the other hobbits how to wiggle out of a rope, and I told him to stop."

"No," Bullroarer laughed. "Nothing like that. It's just that your words jogged an idea out of my head." He leaned over and whispered for a considerable length of time in Branda's ear.

When he finished, he called Carl over to him and pointed to the map. "We should have a few days of peace with the wargs' bellies full. I want you to ride here and see if you can find a warg lair. I suspect this is where they were originally from. And then I want you to look for something else." He leaned over and whispered something in Carl's ear.

"But is that safe?" Carl protested.

Bullroarer mused, "Well, they are a bit thick headed, so it must be safer than a head-long attack by Wargs. Anyways, we've got a secret weapon up our sleeve."

Then Bullroarer ducked out and began searching for Tomba.

[ January 26, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

[Envinyatar]

Carl was up and ready to set out early next morning, before the others had risen. Bullroarer’s instructions had been very clear, but he felt uneasy, nonetheless. Still Bullroarer had gotten them through so far and he wanted to trust the man’s judgment on this part of the plan.

He had just finished saddling one of the horses and had slung his bow and quiver on his back, when he heard his name softly called. He turned to see the Ranger coming quietly toward him, his horse saddled and trailing behind him.

‘I’m going with you.’ he heard the Ranger say. Olo raised his hand to stop the protest. ‘Bullroarer told me what he intended for you to do. It would be better, quicker were there two pair of eyes on this task.’

Carl nodded his head, then, in agreement. ‘And safer . . .’

They led their mounts quietly from the camp and headed east.

[ January 27, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[piosenniel]

When Bullroarer found Tomba, the boy lay sleeping soundly, exhausted by the exertions of the journey and the battle. He pulled a blanket up close under the young Hobbit’s chin and left him to sleep until morning.

*********

Carl had already gone by the time Bullroarer crawled from his bedroll. Olo’s horse was gone,too, and as he looked about the sleeping Hobbits, he did not find him there. Giles was on watch, faithfully keeping the fire built up. A pot of water had been set to boil, and Bullroarer made tea for himself, waving Giles off for some much needed rest. He made an extra mug for Tomba, whom he could see stirring on the other side of the fire, and sweetened it with honey.

‘Come talk with me, sleepyhead!’ he chuckled, handing the bleary eyed boy the mug. Tomba wrapped his blanket close around him and the two sat on a log pulled near the fire, their heads close together talking quietly.

Tomba’s face was serious as he listened to the older Hobbit outline his plan. And several times he looked up at him, his eyes widening. A certain pride grew in him as he understood his skills were counted by this man as of some value and that he was needed to assist the companions reach their goal.

‘It will take me some time to teach someone what they need to do.’ said Tomba, carefully considering what had been asked of him.

‘You will have a fortnight, Tomba. By then we will have reached The Last Bridge, over the River Hoarwell. Carl and Olo will rejoin our group there – though I do expect one or two reports back from them as we travel forward – and we will proceed then on the last leg of our journey to Rivendell.

The sun was well up by the time they finished talking. The other companions were stirring. Branda checked on the injured, saying they were fit to travel by wagon. After a short breakfast, the Hobbits gathered up their belongings, doused the fire, and headed east once more . . .

[Nurumaiel]

Dinodas trudged along the road, leading Gil behind him. The pony was still nervous from the attack, and knew what the fate had been of the stray pony. The hobbit lad sighed as he looked at his companions.

How can we possibly survive another attack? he asked himself. How can we possibly stay alive and get to Rivendell? Everyone is so tired and... despairing.

At that thought, Dinodas put a smile on his face and began chatting cheerily with the other companions. Despairing? He'd try to cheer them up. If there's one thing that would make their mission fail, it was despair.

[dragoneyes]

Gaddy was walking happily behind the wagon, he knew he should really be as happy as he was but Hal was awake and he couldn't help it. Even though Hal wasn't up and about, him being awake and talking was alone enough to lighten Gaddy's heart, add to that Daisy being awake and Gaddy had all he wanted (except for a good breakfast).

Hal dearly wanted to be able to get up and walk, he was very stiff and needed to move but Branda had warned him against moving too much in case he opened the wounds again. Still, he should probably enjoy the time he got in the wagon as much as he could, is wasn't that long ago that he'd been longing to lie in the wagon rather than walk.

It pleased Hal to see Gaddy so happy and he, along with Dinodas, brought some cheer to the three lying in the back of the wagon. Hanging at the back of everone's minds though, was the thought of another possible warg attack, with three of them down, they would never survive another one.

[ January 27, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

[piosenniel]

The journey through the Lone-lands had proved a smooth one. Thirteen days, and the weather had held for them, with only a few sullen, grey days that threatened snow, but brought none. The spirits of the Hobbits were beginning to lift a little. No Wargs had been sighted or heard, and those who had been injured were on the mend. Still, when night came, they built their campfires high and kept in close to it, the shadow of poor Celandine and her fate still fresh in their minds.

They were a half day’s journey from The Last Bridge when Bullroarer called a halt. It was still early afternoon, but he wanted to camp well away from the crossing to the River Hoarwell. He had been on the lookout since they had broken camp early this morning for a suitable place for them to stop, and now he thought he had spied one. Nestled against a small hillock was a small stand of trees. It would give them some protection from the chilly night winds, and offer a source for firewood.

Branda approached Bullroarer once the camp had been set up. ‘Shouldn’t we be hearing soon from Carl and Olo?’ The Ranger and Carl had reported back to Bullroarer twice since they had been sent out. Each meeting was brief, the exchange of information spoken in hushed tones, the faces of the three grave. Olo and Carl had stayed only long enough each time to replenish a few supplies, and then they headed east again.

‘I’m expecting them today, Branda. They know we are crossing into the Angle tomorrow.’ Both hobbits looked about the hastily set up camp, at the relaxed and smiling faces of the companions.

Branda shivered, as he looked eastward. ‘Have you ever been into Rhudaur?’ He had heard tales of that shadowed place. It had been a small kingdom set up by the Dunedain of old, then conquered by the Hill-men long ago in league with the fell powers of Angmar. When the Witch-king had been defeated, Rhudaur had fallen and all its peoples had been scattered. But there lingered a feeling of Shadow on the land, and there were still stories told of evil creatures who roamed the wild lands and forests there.

‘I’ve been there, once. In my youth. My friends and I crossed over The Last Bridge and went only a few hours journey among the hills and woods. It was bright, day time. But still we felt eyes upon us, and a presence that did not mean us well.’

‘It will be about a five day journey if we push hard. I do not relish the thought of it . . .’

[Envinyatar]

Well south of the Great East Road, near the angle where the Hoarwell and the Loudwater joined, they made camp. Carl had wondered at the insistence of Olo that they head into this area, but he followed the lead of the now silent Ranger. To a small clearing amid the thickly forested hillocks they had ridden their horses. Olo looked carefully about the place and satisfied at what he saw, gave the signal to dismount.

‘Someone has been here before us.’ remarked Carl. He squatted near the long cold remains of a campfire, and motioned toward a small pile of wood, neatly stacked by it. ‘Yes,’ said Olo, smiling, ‘and a Ranger by the looks of it.’ Carl frowned, wondering how he had come to this conclusion.

It was mid afternoon, and they were to meet Bullroarer in two days time just west of the Last Bridge. They had come upon signs of the information that the Took wanted, and Carl had wanted to head back sooner. But Olo had insisted that they come south, to this place, and Carl, unfamiliar with this region had followed him. He had asked several times why they were headed in this direction but Olo had either changed the subject or had kept silent.

Now the Ranger crouched down by the fire pit with Carl, and began to lay the fire. Soon they had a merry little blaze going and had gathered a fair stack of wood to keep them through the evening and into night. Carl drew out his pipe and leaned back against his pack. The horses were nearby grazing. He offered the pouch of Longbottom Leaf to Olo, but the Ranger declined.

‘I should like you to stay here, near the fire, if you will. Keep your bow near at hand, though I think that this close, you will not be bothered.’ He slung his own bow at his back and made to mount his horse.

‘Close to what?’ queried the puzzled Carl, his brow furrowing as he stood up.

Olo looked at him, taking the measure of his honor. He had traveled with him now for sometime, and found the hunter to be a trustworthy companion. The Ranger shifted in his saddle, weighing his words carefully. ‘This is for your ears only, and no other. Do I have your word on that?’ Carl nodded his head once in agreement, and stood silent, waiting for Olo to continue.

‘The Rangers of the North have long kept a fastness here where the two rivers meet. It is a well guarded place, and from here they range far and wide seeking information to keep the balance always tipped toward the Light. I know that we have found some signs of the information that Bullroarer requested, but if you will allow me the time, I will glean from them all the information concerning this issue.’ He looked up at the angle of the sun. ‘I will be back before sunset. Keep safe ‘til then.’ He flicked the reins lightly and with a soft word to his mount went swiftly southward.

Carl watched him until he disappeared from sight, then brought his horse nearer to him and built up the fire. He sat and leaned back once again against his pack to smoke. But his eyes were wary and alert, and his bow and quiver close at hand.

[ January 28, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]

[Auriel Haevasawen]

Ragnarok knew not how long he stayed in the dell. His days and nights were spent asleep or finishing the pony carcass. Nimue and Roth were with him. As his strenght returned he could look clearly upon their wretched state and knew he was no better himself.

Finally the moon rose on a clear night and his nostrils picked up the scent of the hobbits faintly on the wind. He rose slowly and stiffly. He was ready to seek them out.

[ January 28, 2003: Message edited by: Auriel Haevasawen ]