[Kransha]

The world seemed to have flown by in an instant’s span. Kalimac, looking around and blinking like an idiot, found the wolves gone and found Alora perched precariously on the pony, having jumped into his arms and almost bowled him over. Recovering quickly, the hobbit managed to hop down from the pony and hug Alora closer to him. He couldn’t even voice his relief at seeing her again unscathed, but she would’ve cut him off anyway as she whispered in his lowered ear, "Daddy, I want to go home." Kalimac didn’t respond at first, suddenly fearing the worst. He had figured that his children would sometimes protest, but Alora’s voice held a more obvious urgency and sincerity than before. All he could do was shake his head and respond with another whisper.

“Don’t worry, Alora, now that the wolves are gone everything will be alright.”

Before the conversation could continue, Elsa’s arms were wrapped awkwardly around him, Alora, and Crispin, who had apparently been with her. Her loud sobs barely served to muffle the protesting cries of the children at being hugged for over ten seconds. Kalimac’s dreading paleness warmed up slowly as a smile creased on his features. His wife began a weak berating of the three of them, but soon enough broke down into sobs again, before going back on her tirade and inspecting the children from head to toe. Being as quiet as he could about it, Kalimac Whitfoot slipped off as his wife and children headed back towards the campsite. He needed to talk to his half-brother, and found him easily supervising the communal recovery of the hobbit caravan.

“Marcho,” he said, some lingering anger in his voice, “I must know; will there be many such events that mar the course of our journey? I could put up with foxes, I could put up with murderous trees, I could even put up with such ravenous beasts as these wolves, but my family cannot handle much more.”

“There will be more hardships, Kalimac, but we will endure.” Responded Marcho almost curtly, which wasn’t like the scout, as he continued walking around and tying up all of the loose ends frayed by the cataclysmic wolf attack so recently. Still frustrated, and more so now that Marcho was not giving him his full attention, Kalimac continued more heatedly, “With all due respect, Marcho, you have not answered my question. I know you’ve put a lot of stock in this quest, but don’t be naïve about our chances.” He practically snapped back. Marcho, looking slightly frustrated with his half-brother, turned with a protesting finger raised to respond, but was cut off by the out-of-place voice of Harold Chubb, who had seemingly materialized beside the two of them. Kalimac turned, as did Marcho a moment later, to look at the fidgeting Harfoot as he began.

“I am so sorry to horn in on your conversation, but I did need to share something important with Kalimac. Marcho, I think you should hear this too.” Kalimac gave an acknowledging nod and Harold continued. The hobbit went off like an arrow strung expertly on a bow, his words flowing with amazing consideration as he proceeded to give a humble apology to Kalimac, which the hobbit pondered briefly as Harold spoke on, beginning to put his heart into his words. He addressed Marcho too, and the scout also recognized his oddly melancholy confidence in his speech. "I’m sorry Kalimac, but no one ever asked me or my buddies whether or not we wanted to move. There we all were, sitting in the Prancing Pony, quaffing a brew, having a good time, and enjoying ourseves, just like always. Suddenly, the Pony was gone and everything had changed. Not that it wasn't a good idea, of course....., things being crowded and such in Bree." Harold respectfully nodded in Marcho's direction. "Still, things like that can nibble at the edge of a Hobbit's mind, and maybe that's part of the reason I got so angry earlier. In any case, I'm very sorry.”

Tipping his hat politely and edging backward, Kalimac and Harold, Fallohide and Whitfoot, rich and poor, looked at each other keenly for what seemed like many minutes before Harold turned, with another tip of the hat, and headed back towards his own family. Kalimac stared after him, putting great consideration into the words his counterpart had just said. He’d almost expected the apology, but the rest had given Kalimac a new insight into Harold as a hobbit, a view of the Harfoot which he’d never seen before in his life. It was strangely disconcerting to know these feelings that Harold had, since he’d often found himself comparing the venerable Harfoot to some kind of slated beast of burden, devoid of any cares except for serving and pestering his employer. But now he knew there was something more. Just like he had his fears, his nervousness, his foolishness, Harold had his past that had been swept away in the winds of Bree.

“You can disregard what I said earlier, Marcho. I do believe I’ve got some thinking to do.”

With that, his mind abuzz with numerous inner conversations which Kalimac was having exclusively with himself, the hobbit of Bree turned abruptly from Marcho and headed towards the waiting arms of his family. He did have a great amount of thinking to do. He saw Harold and his kin in a new light now, even that hostile old coot, Fordogrim. It was like looking through a color-tinted window; everything looked suddenly different, and Kalimac realized who wrong he had been. He would have to consider the Harfoot's words very carefully.