Fréa herded his brothers and Hama back onto the main track and then drove them mercilessly to reach the Pass with only a stop or two for the rest of the day. There was a good hundred miles still to cover, some of it through the twisted forest paths of Fangorn and the rest over tracks skirting south of the Misty Mountains.
When the moon was high in the sky, Fréa finally consented to make camp directly below Derngingle where the great Ents formerly held their moots. But they saw no signs of life other than a few deer or rabbits that happened across their track. That evening Fréa sat by himself on a nearby log glaring grimly at both his brothers and barking out orders to Hama to set up the campsite and prepare a meal as quickly as he could. Privately, he berated himself for having misread the horse's tracks and sending them off on a useless chase into the wilds of the Entwood. But, to the others, his face looked implacable.
When the first rays of the sun peeped over the distant horizon, Fréa roused his companions despite their grumbilng protests and ordered them back onto their horses without even stopping to cook a hot breakfast. Gnawing on a small loaf of leftover bread, he vowed to make the Gap by noon. Within two hours, the group had entered the valley of Nan Curunir. Long a bramble infested waste under the guardianship of Saruman, the land had regained its former richness with fertile green fields spread throughout the valley. But little of the surrounding countryside or the secrets it might hold registered on Fréa's mind so intent was he to reach his goal.
Despite the grumbling of his brothers, Fréa kept the men riding hard and, just as he had promised, came within sight of the Pass at lunchtime when the sun was highest in the sky. Seeing the broad path ahead of him and the great snow-capped mountains towering overhead, he brought the group to a halt and peered about in all directions hoping to see some sign of the travellers or their earlier passage. Straining his eyes for even the slightest clue while standing up tall in his stirrups, he felt his heart plummet for, no matter which direction he gazed, there was nothing unusual in sight.
He sat back down in the saddle with a grimace, cursed his ill luck, and turned around to face his brothers, "May all the crows in the world dump their refuse on Brytta's head! Curse the man! He can't just vanish. Graitwa, dismount and search the land to the north. You Archim, look to the west, and Hama to the south. I will turn back some way and scour the land just off the trail on which we've come."
"There must be some clue. Some campfire or tracks or physical remains that will give us a hint as to when they were here and the direction they're heading now."
With that, Fréa turned his horse around and went back some distance, carefully scrutinizing the ground and the surrounding fields.
[ August 06, 2003: Message edited by: Dain Ironfoot ]
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