[Undómë]

An unearthly silence fell about The Green Man, indeed about the little village itself. It was not that those who dwelt there nor their animals nor even those structures themselves whose unloosed shutters banged against the wooden sides of the houses had suddenly gone still, become quiet. It was that sound itself seemed sucked from the little region which lay outside the forest.

The harmonies of ordinary lives were disrupted, the music broken. And all the little notes, inflections, refrains, the measures, and their resonance now flew through the empty air . . . tumbling over one another as they fell forward toward the awful vacuum of the creature’s bloated presence.

In the common room, a sudden backdraft from the chimney made the fire burn low, nearly down to the glowing embers, and even those were threatening to go out. Old Goody bade Willem throw open the shutters for a moment as she pushed and pulled on the damper handle.

‘Now throw on some of those shavings and that little pile of kindling, lad,’ she directed him as he ran back to help her. ‘And pile the rowan and holly ‘pon it as well!’

Breaths were held and even the beat of hearts seemed to pause as the Halfling’s and the old woman’s attentions were focused on the fire . . .