[Nurumaiel]

Auriel's Post

The sun was about to set and dusk slid into the shadowy spaces below the trees or behind walls. Old Stoat took full advantage of the gathering gloom to cover him from prying eyes. He had not the advantages that Hobbits had when required to be silent and sneeky but had nevertheless a whole lifetime of dark deeds where he had honed his skills.

Ahead of him, between the trees, he saw the little buildings that made up Hobbiton. Carefully, so as not to snap a stick or send up a warning call from a resting pheasant, he made his progress. His dark, dirty garments providing an effective camouflage.

He skirted round the buildings but was surprised to find most of the town deserted. Washing flapped plaintively upon lines, uncollected; toys lay upon the grass, abandoned mid-game; the usual aroma of cooking that would greet his nostrils when near the halflings did not waft toward him on the breeze. Something was afoot in Hobbiton. Old Stoat was not afraid but he was certainly curious.

After skirting the perimeter of the town he moved inward with caution. It was not long before he found out the location of its occupants. A large building: he presumed it to be the Town Hall, seemed to be holding a meeting. With great care Stoatie crept around the back and found what looked like a wood shed, built as a lean-to. He tested to see if it would take his man-weight. The ramshakle shed moved slightly but held firm. Old Stoat smiled. There was a small window, set high into the wall, that a man standing upon a woodshed roof might look through. Steadily he mounted the shed roof. Again it shifted slightly, but mercifully made no noise. His eyes, just cleared the sill and he was able to see inside the crowded room below. He could hear nothing but general hubbub. The window was merely decorative and could not be opened. He could not risk breaking it as it would draw attention to himself. Stoatie sighed and tried to concentrate on the goings-on below him.

[ March 31, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]