[piosenniel]

The Hobbit heard the Elf’s words and her cheeks burned crimson from the sting of his rude remarks. Her back was to him as he spat them out and only Volondil saw how she bit back the sharp retort that threatened to spill from her mouth. His fingers encircled her small wrist and held it captive as her hand sought the knife at her belt. Her eyes flashed with anger, and then, as suddenly, the storm left them as she heard the words the Ranger spoke softly to her.

‘He’s not worth it, Holly. His kind never are.’

His fingers felt her arm relax, as she nodded to him. Gently she finished changing the dressing to his side. Once the poultice was well secured, she left him to the good care of Bird. Peri stood near waiting for her, one eye fixed on the Elf.

She gathered up her supplies and repacked them on the pony, wanting only to be away from the scene of this disastrous day. ‘Let’s leave the big folk to sort out their own problems.’ she murmured to Peri. ‘I want to go down to the glade we passed on our way out of camp, and see if I can capture that old tree before the sun goes down too far.’ Olo shouldered his pack and hefted his stout blackthorn stick and prepared to follow along. She frowned at him, but he only smiled and stood his ground.

‘As you wish.’ she said to him over her shoulder, as she turned and headed back down the small trail.

************************************************** ***********

It was near evening when the two Hobbits and Peri returned to the main encampment. Holly was well satisfied with the sketches she had been able to make, and was in a cheerful mood. She sang softly to herself as she gathered twigs and wood for a small camp fire near the outskirts of the camp, far from any big folk.

The pony had been unpacked by Olo, who rubbed him down, fed and watered him. And now both of them huddled near the small fire, warming themselves against the chill evening breeze. It was a cold supper of brown bread, and cheese, and a few dried fruits that Holly had laid out for them, packed for them by the cook at the Inn. Washed down with several cups of hot sweet tea it tasted like a grand feast to the tired Hobbits.

Olo threw a thick blanket over the pony’s back, and laid out their bedrolls on either side of the fire. He lay there looking up at the darkening sky, watching the stars pop out, as he smoked his pipe. Rings of smoke drifted up from him now and again to encircle a star or two and then disappear. ‘I thought you had some business to get off to, Holly. Have you decided to stay and go to Tharbad after all?’

‘Might as well now.’ she said. ‘I can’t possibly make it north in time now. I’ve lost the commission.’ She sighed, wondering how she could make her slim purse grow fat enough to get her through for a while. Her hand wandered to her pocket, looking for her one of her pipes. It found none, but a piece of drawing paper folded over many times crinkled against her fingers as the searched the inner pocket of her vest. ‘What’s this?’ she thought to herself.

She pulled it out and spread it out on her blankets, carefully smoothing out the creases. It was a copy of the map she had put in Bird’s pack. One she had made, intending to color it in and highlight the so-called ‘places of interest’ on it with small renderings of treasure heaps and jewels and chests overflowing with gold and silver coins, and the occasional grinning skull . . .

[ December 10, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]