[Celuien]

Eager to come to Falco's aid, Garmund ran faster than he ever had before. He did not know what had gone amiss, but there had to be something wrong. Even from a distance, Garmund had seen that the hobbit had something wrapped around his head.

For a moment, Garmund thought of being glad to be away from the slow shearing and from the simmering fight with Cnebba, now pushed under a stony silence broken only by grumbled comments on their work. He chided himself. If there was trouble at hand and if Falco had been hurt, that was far more important than the quarrel.

The unkempt thicket near the ruins drew near. Not long ago, Garmund had approached cheerfully, ready for an adventure. Now the place seemed somehow forbidding. Falco was nowhere to be seen, and a quick glance behind showed that Cnebba had been left far behind. Garmund was alone.

Or so he thought. Whispered voices and footsteps came from inside the thicket and Garmund dropped to the ground alarmed. He crawled under a tangle of brambles and tried to peer into the deeper undergrowth.

Several pairs of booted feet paced just ahead. Garmund held his breath, not wanting to be heard, and slowly crawled back out from under the brambles. Cnebba was coming, and quarrel or no quarrel, had to be warned to be on his guard.

He headed back the way he came, first slowly and on tiptoe, then, once some distance separated him from the thicket, he broke into a run. He soon came back to Cnebba.

Out of breath, Garmund gasped out, "There are strange men in the thicket. We have to be careful. Come on."