[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 ]