[Child of the 7th Age]

A wry but poignant smile spread slowly over Lindir's face as the Elf accepted the piece of meat and turned to face his friend. "No new trick....only the old ones. You forget, Orëmir, I am no artisan spending my whole day over the forge as once I did. Since the middle of the Second Age, I have foresworn all shaping of metal, whether sharp blades or jewelled rings. Too much peril lies there." Lindir's figners strayed once more to the brooch he wore at the base of his neck. He gave a soft sigh, and silently recalled the promise he had made.

Then he pulled himself back and added, "For over three thousand years, I have roamed the forests and the coasts making my way as a scout. In all that travelling, I have learned a thing or two about fish. Many a time, I have kept my stomach filled this way." Lindir deftly removed the bow that had been slung over his left shoulder and carefully removed its bowstring, reaching under his belt and pulling out a hook of bone along with a small stone sinker. These he attached to the end of the string. "I have no net so it will be hard to bag the big ones," he added, "but perhaps we can pull in a mess of smaller fish and store them in my leather pouch. If all else fails, we can dig near the edge of the pond where the shell fish bury deep in the mud."

With that, Lindir squatted on the damp ground, after putting a piece of meat on his hook, and slipped the line into the water. He was surprised to discover that the pond was not as shallow as it had first appeared. His line sunk down more than two feet before it touched the bottom.