Carchmoroth paced restlessly on the stone ledge at the lip of the cave. He had expected the Wolves back by now with Dûrêl and Dúgoroth. Why were they late? He snapped angrily at a Wolf who ventured too near to him. He should never have allowed them to go out hunting this soon after the last hunt.
He heard the pack take up a low timbred yipping, and raced to the top of the hill, peering south. Narrowing his keen eyes against the light, he picked them out, travelling at a good pace toward the den. The Wolves ran before, their red tongues lolling out, and behind, driving them on were his children, snapping at the heels of those who would not quicken their pace.
__________________
Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
|