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When they first started out from the place, Thornden did not walk beside Falco and Eodwine. He fell into line behind Eodwine, and when his younger brother moved to stay with Falco, he called him back. Javan obeyed reluctantly, leaving the Hobbits side and going to Thornden with a sullen look.
The entire group set off. Some of the guards of Meduseld took up Rilef’s body and walked behind Thornden. The others from the Mead Hall walked behind those – Garmund going directly behind Rilef, looking crushed and depressed. Javan’s curiosity kept his head craned over his shoulder, staring with wide eyes at Rilef and Garmund, until Thornden laid his hand on his shoulder and jerked him forward again.
“What happened?” Javan asked.
“Don’t know,” Thornden replied in clipped tones.
“Weren’t you here?”
“Not when he got hurt.”
“Did you-”
Thornden didn’t want to be questioned. He had questions of his own to ask and he deserved answers more than Javan’s silly curiosity did. “Javan,” he interrupted, “why are you here? I told you to stay back at the Hall, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Javan said slowly. “It was Falco’s fault. He wanted to go get help and we couldn’t use his pony, and I didn’t want him to ride mine all by himself because…he’s so little I didn’t think he could control him.” Actually, the thought had not really entered his mind, but it was an excuse. “And,” he went on quickly, “I was only expecting to go to Meduseld to get help, it was all Falco’s idea to come here.” He quickened his pace and plucked Falco’s sleeve. “Tell Thornden that it was your idea to come here after getting the men from Meduseld, Mr. Falco.”
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