[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 ]