Elsa Whitfoot
Elsa stared after Kalimac’s retreating back in disbelief. He wants me to stay behind? Kal, you’re mad! Our children are lost and you want me to stay behind!? There was only one acceptable reaction. Elsa tightened her grip on the broom and ran after her husband.
After only a few steps, Elsa was breathing hard. The three ponies had already reached the forest’s edge. Sarah Chubb ran past Elsa, who realized that the other woman was much stronger than she. Elsa sped up, determined that Sarah should not reach the forest first. Soon both ladies were forced to halt as Marcho headed them off just short of the forest’s edge.
“Elsa, Sarah, I know you’re worried sick, but there is nothing you can do.” He told them. . “Go back to your wagons…no, better yet, go to my wagon. Estella is there and she will be armed.” But I am armed! Elsa wanted to shout. Here was a harder decision, though. Could she disobey both her husband and the appointed leader of their group?
Obediently, Elsa turned around and headed toward the wagon. She could hear Sarah close behind. Marcho left, apparently satisfied that they were following his instructions. Elsa turned to face Mrs. Chubb. “I apologize for today’s argument, and anything offensive that I said.” She mumbled, not meeting Sarah’s eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my children are lost in the woods.” She turned away, not waiting for an answer, and began running toward the forest again.
“Whoa, Elsa.” Sarah called, easily catching up. “It’s not just your children that’s lost, it’s May and Henry too. I’m coming” Elsa did not respond; already she was panting. She was not sure whether her apology had been accepted, but she was grateful for the company.
Elsa’s appreciation for Sarah’s companionship increased tenfold when they entered the forest. She struggled through the underbrush, batting at vines and branches with her broom. The ponies should have left a path easy to follow, but their trail seemed to vanish after several yards. Elsa glanced around helplessly, reluctant to ask for Sarah’s guidance.
Suddenly a low howl rippled from the woods just ahead of the women. Elsa whimpered and clutched her broom. A chorus of howling erupted from further in. Sarah plunged into the bushes ahead, moving toward the fierce howling with admirable determination. Elsa followed with considerable reluctance. After several frightening moments of blind racing, Elsa knew that she was well and truly lost. She caught up to Sarah, who had paused briefly, and voiced a troublesome question. “Which way now?”
Sarah was kept from answering by a thunderous crashing in the brush. A cart pony burst from the foliage in a wild dash. Sarah let out a cry and made a grab for the animal, but it evaded her and continued in it’s mad flight from the forest. Trying to still her pounding heart, Elsa noticed with detached puzzlement that Sarah was once again tearing through the forest at an alarming speed. The thought of being left behind frightened Elsa more than the sudden realization that Sarah’s path, like the ponies, seemed to be vanishing quickly.
Elsa followed as quickly as she could, trying to imagine the purpose behind Sarah’s sudden haste. Branches, roots, and other obstacles were proffered by the forest with unrelenting generosity, and it became increasingly difficult for Elsa to think and run at the same time. It had something to do with the pony… That was the Chubb’s pony, Elsa thought, tripping over a log. She loosened her broom from the grip of a vine for what seemed the hundredth time.
The Chubb’s pony, so Harold must have been riding it… It was too clear even for Elsa to miss. The image of the riderless pony came back to her mind with the chilling realization. Something must have happened to Harold. Even though Elsa did not consider Mr. Chubb a friend, the thought of the usually cheerful hobbit lying dead or gravely wounded in this hostile forest disturbed her terribly. Harold was armed. If something has happened to him, what of Alora and Crispin? What if we’re too late?
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