[Folwren]

Thornden in the Ruins

Thornden forced his way through the entangled underbrush, following the hobbit and boy as best he could. Soon after entering the thick growth, he struck upon a sort of path. It was hardly visible, to be sure, for the long, thin trailers of bushes and vines draped across it. But none of the stalks grew there, allowing anyone to pass easily with the growth brushing away from his legs as he went. Thornden felt almost sure that the other two had come down this way. Glancing to either side of himself, he thought they couldn’t very well have gone any other way. The thorns and vines were thick and prickly and would have been impossible for either Falco or Garmund to get through.

Walking quickly, he soon came to the screen of ivy and vines that cut forward progress off. He glanced down and saw the place where they had been forced apart to allow his two small companions through. He bent to enlarge it some, at least a little to give him some chance of passing through, and he froze suddenly in his action to listen.

It was a voice. A low, rasping voice. “My place this,” it said. “Who be you?”

It came from beyond the screen of vines, and the leaves were too thick to see anything through. Thornden quickly pushed and pulled away at the leaves and sticks to make the entrance a little larger before he forced his way through, bent over double. He emerged on the other side in a brief moment, squeezed and scratched. He blinked and pulled a prickly twig away from his face and hair. Then he looked up and once more he stopped all movement completely.

The stranger stood in full sight across the round clearing. Between him and Thornden near the exact middle of the space, Garmund and Falco stood, both staring at the man. The man’s eyes were fixed on Thornden, and Thornden’s eyes were fixed on him. They were roughly the same height, but in a single glance Thornden saw that beneath the tattered clothing, the man was broad and muscular.

As their eyes locked for a moment, Thornden saw a look of fear, and anger, spring into the man’s eyes. It was a like a fox who had been long hunted and finally, when it thought it was safe, caught up to again. Thornden’s breath caught in his throat and he remained very, very still. Would the stranger become violent and try to attack? If he thought he was cornered and in danger, he might try to defend himself without asking questions first. Would he speak again and give Thornden a chance to make it clear that they meant no harm?