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Athwen
“Yes, but how many wolves, and which direction did they go?” Lindir asked no one in particular.
Athwen and Dorran had heard the last several exchanges. Carl began to talk, half to himself, and half to his companions, as he wandered off in search of some way to follow them. Athwen couldn’t help smile after him momentarily. Regardless of how astonished he would be if she ever voiced her opinion, Athwen couldn’t get it out of her mind that hobbits were absolutely adorable and it was a very difficult thing to take him seriously. She stifled a chuckle at his eager attempt to be useful, and turned to the others.
“Dorran just told me that the slavers don’t move in large groups,” she said. “And if there are a lot of slaves, perhaps they won’t attack them immediately. If that’s the case, we may have a chance to catch up. Carl’s right, though, we do need to hurry. And he is also probably right and they wouldn’t go into the mountains.”
She stopped a moment to think. In her opinion, as they had already searched for tracks and found none except for those that Lindir had found, they should waste no more time looking, but continue riding in the most likely direction. However, she knew next to nothing of these matters and so she kept her mouth shut. They didn’t need a woman telling them what she thought would be best and what wouldn’t – much less a woman know didn’t know what she was talking about.
So, instead of continuing to talk, she left the planning to those who knew more about it, and followed Carl. She caught up to him as he peered and poked through the dry plants.
“Tell me what you think you might find and I’ll help you look,” she said.
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