[Rimbaud]

Guthrin immediately looked away, his eyes shifting, his countenance distorted. He took Thenamir’s hard hand and briefly clenched it before turning swiftly away. He said nothing. Thenamir looked at his retreating back, saddened.

An uneasy silence fell on them all. They watched Guthrin return to his seat beneath the tree, back resting on the gnarled trunk. Thenamir scowled swiftly and muttered something of ‘questions later.’ Dwarin looked prepared to smite down Guthrin as he sat. The man stared out into the vista of trees, seemingly unaware of the eyes on him.

Elwood broke the silence, turning smoothly from perusal of Guthrin. “Here comes our strangest companion,” he said, and his light and even-toned voice soothed the company somewhat. Thenamir shook himself and turned to where the giant shape trotted through into the clearing. Dwarin snorted.

“Elvish ears are not all that,” he said, with a good-natured air. “I heard his blundering progress some minutes back.”

They all strained to hear any sound of the great wolf’s progress, but although in the still wood they could hear birds singing, somewhat subdued, above them (and Elwood could hear a squirrel in the oak scratching his ear) not a rustle came from the padded feet of the Warg. Elwood smiled. The others in the company hid grins and Baranthol went so far as to pat Dwarin on the back.

“What is wrong with that man?” asked Kalohern, none too quietly, still gazing at the estranged Rider beneath the oak.

None replied to him and he fell silent. “We must move,” said Areina, anxiously. “I feel we have been here too long.”

With that, it was as if a switch had been applied to them. The camp erupted in activity, although there was discernable order if experienced eyes were the watchers. Soon, the two horses were laden and the party was ready for movement. No one spoke of the battle of the fires and the absence of their friends was too obvious to point out. Nevertheless, after the Warg had returned for the second time, with blood around his muzzle, looking rather full, Elwood knelt beside him. The others knew not what he commanded, but the Warg silently left, in the direction of the battle. Thenamir nodded at Elwood in approval. The tall Gondorian, growing into his role of leadership, motioned them forwards.


Even Guthrin had readied himself. He laced his boots up, and rolled his bedding. He swiftly checked his sword, which came smoothly from its plain, unadorned scabbard. He avoided the eyes of the others but he saw Dwarin speaking with Thenamir and knew that it was of him that they spoke.

He could not say why he had been so rude to Thenamir but he could not take the condescension of these people. He wished to be back at home…again he shook his head. Why must I torture myself? I did well that night…they would accept me… Yet he did not walk next to the others, but some way behind. He made some show of looking behind them and scanning the forest and the others let him be, but in reality he saw little and his mind was on other things. He sensed a great darkness in his future. His dreams were as ugly as ever and he was desperately tired. Still, the hard life had done wonders for Guthrin’s physique and although he knew it not, but for his bowed posture, he cut a finer figure than ever he had in the rich clothes of his homestead. The weight had fallen from him and his brown hair hung around his shoulders, clean from the rain that had fallen, mercifully for the whole of the preceding day. The forest smelt fresher and more alive, although still the dark places held fear for him.

Before long, the line of the party had extended to single file, with two exceptions. Kalohern walked with his horse to his left and Areina to his right, just ahead of Guthrin, and at the very front of the party, Thenamir strode with Dwarin at his side, seemingly in animated converse. Some of it floated back to Guthrin. “Nay, but he remembers little!” he heard the Dwarf exclaim, and he wondered at it. Of the Warg there was no sign. Guthrin feared the moment he knew would come again, when Thenamir would drop back to speak with him. As the day reached its mid-part, he relaxed somewhat. The party moved on, silenced by the endlessness of the forest and the difficulty of the path.

[ October 14, 2002: Message edited by: Rimbaud ]