[piosenniel]

Olo’s eyes twinkled at the old story that Rangers were eight feet tall. How many times had he heard that one! And seen the questioning looks that followed when he assured them he was indeed a Ranger. He glanced to his right where Volondil now stood up as straight as he could, trying to fufill the role for these hobbits.

Volondil caught his partner’s look and shrugged his shoulders, chuckling. He relaxed his stance and stepped back a pace or two, inviting the Hobbit group out from the shadows to have a seat. The four Hobbits took the chairs at the table, and Volondil pushed a barrel near for him to sit on.

The Man brought three clean glasses from a side cupboard, and poured the remainder of the wine for the company, his partner, and himself. As he poured the last of the bottle into his glass, he wondered again why the Hobbits were so far from their homes, especially in this weather.

‘We cannot stay at home and watch our families and friends starve slowly.’ said Bullroarer in a low voice. ‘What meager supplies of grains and vegetables and fruits we had are almost gone, and the hunting is poor. The deer and rabbits have grown few; they too suffer from this long harsh winter. Our own farm animals are grown thin and either die from hunger or we are forced to kill them to keep ourselves alive.’

Bullroarer rubbed his thick fingers on the rough grain of the old table. ‘We are desperate, and so we turn to desperate measures to see us through.’ He looked carefully at the two Rangers, who both leaned forward, listening closely to his words.

‘We are bound for Rivendell, to the House of Elrond.’ he continued. ‘We have heard they have some supplies of food they can share with us. And we have brought gifts for their willingness to do this for us.’

The eyes of both the Rangers grew wide at this statement. ‘Rivendell!’ said Olo. ‘A long way still to go, with grim dangers ahead on the road, if we have heard the reports aright.’

‘That is our path for certain,’ continued the Took. ‘Dangers we have already faced, and we will face what we need to bring food back to our people.’ He told them of their journey so far, and what had beset them.

Volondil shook his head sadly on hearing of the wild dog attack and the death of one of the companions. He excused himself for a moment, and pulled Olo to one side with him. They spoke quietly for a few moments, their faces serious, their voices quiet and grim in tone. When they returned to the table, Volondil motioned for Olo to speak.

‘We have discussed your story and fear that if you go on alone, there will be none who return.’ The three companions blanched at this statement, but still the resolve to go on was in ther eyes. Olo continued, ‘The road is filled with many dangers in these cold days. Bigger dangers than the ones you’ve faced so far. We are sworn to the safety of those within our territory.’ Olo leaned forward, his hands on the table before him. ‘We cannot allow you to continue on this doomed journey . . .’

Bullroarer stood up quickly, cutting off the words of the Ranger. His face was marked with anger as he stared into Olo’s face. ‘It is not for you to say what I and my companions can or cannot do. Tomorrow morning we will rise early and be on our way. We are resolved, and there is nothing you can do to stop us.’

Volondil stepped forward, placing his hands on both the Hobbit’s arms, urging them apart, asking them to be seated. ‘I think if you heard Olo out, there will be no need for such anger.’ he entreated.

Olo took a deep breath, nodding his head at Bullroarer. ‘Yes, I think my words did not come out the way I intended.’ He looked at the tense faces of the three companions, his own face softening. ‘We cannot allow you to continue on this doomed journey . . . alone!’

He looked to Volondil and then went on. ‘I will be coming with you.’