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 ]
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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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