[alaklondewen]

To Marcho’s relief, the great trees of the forest seemed to open and let the small army move more freely than the band had been able to the night before. The scout wondered whether their number was the reason, or if maybe the ancient trees had some sort of compassion. The latter would have been extremely unlikely, he decided. Whatever the reason he was grateful for all haste was needed, especially after the disheartening sight of Harold Chubb’s pony sprinting past them without her rider. The scout had little hope of finding the father alive, but he lead the men forward with his head up and chest out, ready to face whatever they needed to face to save those children.

The horrible cry of an injured animal came from just ahead, and then the voice of the old Fordogrim called out with force. “Let’s deal with these last two curs and send them back to the mother as whelped them!”

Marcho turned to face the hobbits that so bravely followed him and shouted with his sword raised high, “You heard him, my friends. Onward with all haste, let us send those demons off and save our fellow hobbits!” He then roared with all his might and ran through the trees. The soldiers followed his lead, hollering and crying out as though they had become possessed.

As the last of the trees fell behind them, they found the three men first. Both Harold and Kalimac were seated upon the Whitfoot pony with Fordogrim beside them…his cane raised and ready to strike. One wolf sat off to the side in some sort of daze, while two more growled and nipped at the ponies’ feet. When Marcho and the other hobbits entered the scene, the wolves back away for a startled moment. The settlers did not stop to check on the health of the three on their steeds, but charged toward the wolves with such fury that the beasts backed away from their prey and finally turned tail and ran. A few of those with bows let arrows fly…one of which grazed the rump of one of the animals, causing him to cry out and snap at his rear.

Marcho turned to Kalimac to ask about the children’s whereabouts, but before he could verbalize his question a tiny voice called, “Daddy! Daddy!” The source was little Alora running out of the nearby by glade toward her father’s pony. Her brother and the older hobbits followed quickly behind. The scout was surprised to see a fifth child, Adelard Proudfoot. No one had mentioned the boy’s disappearance at the campsite.

It was as glad a sight as any could be in that dark forest…the children and their grateful and relieved parents reunited. Marcho noticed the Proudfoot boy had blood on his clothes, and he wondered whether it belonged to Adelard or someone (or something) else. The story would be told no doubt once they all returned safely to camp.