"Oh, I am starting to get tired!"
Aldwulf smiled to himself as he heard the words drop from the woman’s mouth. ‘How like my sisters,’ he thought, smoothing his mustache down as he drew his hand over the upturned curve of his lips, hiding his smile. ‘She’s not so much tired, I’ll wager, as she is bored by this grim male company.’
He watched her as she urged her mount to a faster pace, and moved ahead of the group. ‘Be wary, m’lady,’ he said, pulling up near her. ‘There have been reports of shadowed creatures lately, coming down from the north. One or two have been sighted among the trees that forest the hills along the Westfold. No reports of any attacks on men, though one or two deer carcasses have been found mangled in a savage manner.’ He looked at her appraisingly.
‘I would not care to have you be the subject of the first report . . .’
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’
– Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'
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