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The horse trotted merrily along over the gold-tossing grass and Falco’s pony kept up a steady, loping canter just by their side. Thornden had his arm wrapped securely about young Garmund’s waist to keep him from bouncing too high. He wondered how the lad was getting on – surely such riding would get tiring – but Garmund didn’t seem to mind, and often he laughed with glee and excitement, and begged to go faster.
In half an hour they reached the place of the ruins. It was among the foothills of the mountains, small hills rolled about them. They reached the place by a rare-used path, overgrown with grass and weeds. Before them, the high, rocky back of a hill rose, and at it’s base, trees and bushes grew. Thornden and Falco brought their mounts to a stop. Thornden swung down from his horse and then reached up to help Garmund down. The boy nearly tumbled out of the saddle in his excitement. Scarcely had his feet safely touched the ground that he looked about him excitedly.
“Are we there? Where is it?”
Thornden laughed as he turned to his horse. “Oh, they’re here alright. Falco, if you like, you can take Garmund on. I’ll tend the horses and follow you.”
Falco seemed happy enough with this arrangement. He left his pony where he stood and beckoned Garmund to follow him as he turned towards the tangled mess of bushes and little, shrubby trees.
“There in here,” he called. Garmund ran to catch up.
Thornden smiled as he watched them go, disappearing into the brush, they were both so short. He chuckled and set to work unsaddling the horse. No knowing how long they’d be there. . .
When both of the animals were unsaddled and unbridled, left to wander and graze at will, Thornden turned to follow the hobbit and boy.
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