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 ]
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’
– Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'
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