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"Aye, you should stay," Falco retorted, "'tis you the man fears. He was almost kindly to the boy and me. Something about you being big I don't doubt. I'll not try to take Garmund from you, but I for one am going to find out what I can."
With that, Falco slipped through the opening in the wall and looked around. The woods were thick and closely hung with vines. A narrow path bent left and followed the wall on the other side of which he had left Thornden and Garmund. Quiet as a hobbit can, Falco crept down the path, keeping his eyes, nose, and ears as alert as he could. He'd marked that the man stank a bit, and sniffed the air for remnants of it: a man who hadn't bathed in maybe years.
The path left he curving wall and went straight toward the mountains. Two great firs stood ahead on each side of the path, which was still closed in by thick brush and overhanging trees. He crept to the edge of the fir trees and peered left, hunched over. More woods. He peered right. And met the knees of the man. He looked up. And fell on his back in wide eyed surprise.
"Who be you?" said the man.
"Aye, who?" said the other man that came out of the same pair of legs. For the man was one up to the hips, and split in two above, four arms and two heads. The burlap bag turned out to be the tunic of the new man. They were twins from head to hip, one man from hip to toe.
"Please don't eat me!" Falco squeaked.
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