[Child of the 7th Age]

Branda was perched on the top of the hill standing watch while the other hobbits finished their dinner. His fingers gripped tightly round his bow, as he peered cautiously from one side to the next, trying to make out any suspicious signs or hints of danger. On the face of things, all was quiet. But he still did not like the look of the landscape in front of him. He couldn't put a finger on exactly what was bothering him, but he had a queasy feeling in the bottom of his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the greasy fish stew.

Finally, he figured it out. It wasn't how things looked, but rather how they sounded. Or, to put it more simply, the fact that he could hear no sounds at all! The usual noises of the night were missing. There were no scampering feet of tiny night creatures, no hoots coming from the snow owls who usually stood guard in the trees above, not even any barking from distant farmdogs. The whole place was so quiet that it was uncanny.

Branda pulled his cloak closer about his shoulders, reached down for the unlit torch, and sat hunched forward in front of the small campfire which Bullroarer had advised him to keep lit, as much a measure of protection as warmth. No, he did not like this situation at all. Why did Rivendell have to lie so far away? And why was the night so very, very quiet?

[ January 20, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]