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The Farmer's Son  by Lindelea


Chapter 11. Hunters, Hunted

Still some way south of Tuckborough, the Ranger and the son of Elrond skirted a very large hill indeed, with a steep face to the west, a precipice crumbling precariously, at the base scattered rocks and even boulders to warn an alert traveller to the danger of more to fall at any time. Gentler, more gradual slopes led to the heights from the other sides, though the hunters knew these existed more from a distant view of the hill before they came upon it, than from first-hand knowledge.

The trail they followed led around the hill on the western side, and here they came to a sudden halt. Halmir dismounted, tossing his reins to Elladan.

Flies arose at his approach, rising from their feasting on the blood, still relatively fresh, that had seeped from the broken bodies at the foot of the cliff. Halmir surveyed the grisly scene, then turned back to call softly. 'Hobbit ponies!' He took a closer look, removing a glove to probe with a cautious finger. 'Dead some hours, I think, but no longer than that.' He began then to examine the saddles, the intricately embroidered blankets, the fine workmanship of the leather bespeaking the owner's pride in his beasts. 'Fallen from above, I deem.'

'A curious rain,' Elladan answered. He lifted his head to scrutinize the steep hillside. 'Took a wrong step, or the lip of the cliff crumbled beneath them, or...'

Halmir's mouth twisted. 'Ponies have too much sense to walk too close to a crumbling edge.'

'No riders,' Elladan pointed out, looking once more to the hillside. There was no sign of any hobbits there. No erstwhile rider hung from a protruding branch or root, having flung himself free at his mount's fatal misstep. The edge above them looked undisturbed; no head looked over to ascertain the ponies' fate. There was also no evidence upon the ground to indicate that hobbits had walked here in recent days, much less recent hours. 'If the ponies had wandered, surely their riders would have made their way down, to reclaim the harness at the least.'

'Then the riders are still atop the hill, you think?' Halmir said, replacing the glove on his hand. 'What happened to We must make haste to Hobbiton?'

'I think this mystery has something to do with the intruders we follow,' Elladan said. 'That cry we heard earlier... it might have come from this hill, in point of fact.'

'Then we might find at least one of the intruders here,' Halmir said, walking back to reclaim his horse. He mounted in a smooth motion, and they began to move forward, swinging wide around the dead ponies. Even so, Halmir's horse tossed its head and showed the whites of its eyes as they skirted that grim place. They might return later, to bury the bodies, but surely hobbits would be searching for these ponies, and would take care of the sad business themselves... It was best not to interfere in such Shire matters. They might spark a hue-and-cry, even a muster, if their actions, to appearances, seemed to be concealing evidence of wrong doings.

The travellers were cautious as they rode around the base of the hill, looking for signs of others going before them. Rounding the northwestern foot of the hill they came to a well-used track running from west to east; it was the path to the marshes, used by the hobbits of Whitwell when the wild ducks and geese were gathering thick, in the autumn, on their way to warmer lands. After a quick look at the track, they turned to follow the recent marks of ponies coming from the direction of Whitwell. No tracks led back again.

At last they reached a gentler slope, and the first indications that others had climbed the hillside.

'Hobbit ponies left the track here,' Halmir said, surveying the marks in the soft turf. 'Our hobbits' ponies, in point of fact... see the pattern of nails in the shoes.'

But Elladan's gaze was fixed upon something other than hoofmarks on that ground, before he lifted his eyes to sweep their surroundings. 'Why did he leave the arrow there, to lie?' he said, as if to himself, and frowned. 'Did he shoot,' he mused further, 'and miss, and pursue his quarry up the hill?'

'Pursuit, I doubt, at least on the part of the hobbits,' Halmir said, his jaw tightening. He had no doubt in the matter. The hobbit's will had not been his own once he began that final climb, or so the Ranger feared, and his daring in drawing a bow on such a fearsome quarry no doubt had resulted in his death, or worse. 'Drawn to their doom, I deem more likely.'

'The hunters become in turn the prey,' Elladan agreed, equally grim. 'Then let us to the end of the chase.'

They turned the heads of their horses uphill and urged them upward. Partway up, Halmir stopped with an exclamation. 'A horse!' he said, and pointing, '...came from the east, and stood here for a time, perhaps to survey the track below.'

'Just one!' Elladan said with a nod, as if this confirmed his thoughts. 'So they are no longer travelling in company.'

'Just as we gathered from the cries we heard,' Halmir agreed. His expression darkened. 'So, Black Riders reached Hobbiton, and found what they were looking for, and...' On further thought he shook his head. 'Or not, and have now parted ways in order to search a larger amount of territory, and perhaps in several directions, as if they are still not sure where their quarry is to be found.'

'You have the right of it, my friend, for such was my own thought,' Elladan said. 'And one of them encountered a pair of mounted hobbits, and drew them hither? Perhaps to question them on the matter?'

In answer, Halmir nudged his horse into motion, leaning far forward to urge the beast to climb at a quick and steady pace. At the same time he loosened his sword. He didn't know what awaited them at the top of the hill, but he thought he'd better be ready.





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