I borrow characters and situations from Tolkien and they belong to him.  I make no profit from their use other than the enriched imaginative life that I assume he hope I would gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this story.

AN:  In an effort not to mislead anyone, I need to point out a potential canon glitch in this story that I noticed only after Erunyauve tactfully gave me some information about the dwarves of Erebor.  Here’s what she tells me:  “Erebor was founded in 19, but it appears that Thorin I left and took his people to the Grey Mountains in 2210.  Thorin did not bring the dwarves back until 2590, but perhaps some remained in Erebor during that time (it is not said that Erebor was deserted).”  My story is set around 2507, so any Dwarves whom Thranduil might be dealing with are the remnants that Erunyauve kindly provides me with.  She knows a lot, and I thank her for sharing her extensive canon knowledge with me.

*******

4. Companions of the Hunt

“I am getting much better with my bow and Penntalion says that Turgon, and Annael, and I will be in the older students’ class before long. Come home soon. Your loving brother, Legolas,” Eilian read.  He smiled over the carefully formed writing, picturing Legolas laboring at the table in the library at home.  He felt a sudden pang of longing to see his little brother again.

He shifted restlessly, rubbing his back on the tree trunk he was leaning against.  He was due for a leave soon, and he was beginning to feel the need for it more sharply.  He was fortunate that his natural optimism left him able to tolerate the proximity of Shadow better than many warriors could, but even he eventually felt the oppression.  At the moment, he wished nothing more than to be near a child whose innocence had not yet been marred by the need to slaughter other creatures, even if learning to use a full-sized bow loomed large in the child’s desires at the moment. He sighed, folded the letter, and put it in his pack to answer later when he might be feeling more cheerful.  From across the camp, Todith beckoned to him, and he went to join his captain.

“Look what Ithilden has sent us,” Todith said with satisfaction, pointing to the three swords, hauberks, and helmets spread on the ground before him.  Along with dispatches and letters from home, they had been in a large bundle that a messenger had brought into camp an hour or so previously.

Eilian picked up one of the swords and feinted with it.  “What a weapon!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” Todith agreed.  He smiled slightly at Eilian.  “They are to go to our three newest members.”

Eilian felt a stab of jealous disappointment, which he quickly suppressed.  His own sword had been a gift from his father when he pledged his faith as a warrior, and it was the finest in the patrol.  Or had been until now, he thought regretfully and then gave himself a shake.  I feel this way because the Shadow is weighing on me, he reminded himself.  I will not feel so after my leave.

“I have a task for you,” Todith went on, and Eilian brought his full attention back to his captain.  He had been serving as the patrol’s lieutenant for two years now, during which time Todith had gradually been increasing his responsibilities.  He was enormously gratified by Todith’s faith in him and found that he exerted himself beyond what was easy in order to insure that that faith was justified.

“I have been thinking about Tinár,” Todith went on, causing Eilian to grimace.  The best that could be said about Tinár was that he had been more careful about shooting near other warriors since wounding Maltanaur. He had not, however, curbed his arrogant tongue one whit, and his continued boasting was beginning to hurt the unit.  “I have decided to give you the task of turning him into a useful warrior.”

Eilian blinked at his captain.  Surely he had misunderstood.  “You are joking,” he said weakly.

“No, I am not,” Todith responded calmly.  “He is good with a bow, and he is eager to fight.  The Woodland Realm has so few warriors that it cannot afford to throw such a one away if he can be salvaged.”

“Are you sure you do not want me to defeat the forces of Dol Guldur by throwing pine cones at them?” Eilian demanded.  He was dismayed and a little annoyed at what was being asked of him.  “Todith, he is completely impervious to all hints and suggestions that he change his behavior.  You are asking the impossible!”

Todith shrugged. “Perhaps.  I think that you are right that he will always be conceited, but I am still hoping that he also can be made useful. Perhaps his conceit can lead him to act differently if you appeal to it properly.  Or perhaps we simply need to find the right kind of tasks for him to do.  You are good with people, Eilian. See what you can do with him.”

Eilian smothered an exasperated sigh.  If Todith wanted this, then he would do his best.

“Start by giving him one of the swords and telling him the armor is his too,” Todith instructed. “And I believe it is your turn to hunt for meat today. Take him with you.” He began to read the dispatches in his hand.  Eilian recognized his dismissal and turned to look at the area near the campfire where Tinár, Maltanaur, and Gelmir were currently sitting.

With the new sword still in his hand, he walked toward the fire. Tinár must have been holding forth again, for Maltanaur looked ironically amused and Gelmir looked exasperated.  “Hello, Eilian,” Tinár greeted him.  “I was just telling these two about the time my adar told the novice masters not to interfere with my stance. It is quite a good story really. I had already told Penntalion that I was satisfied with my stance the way it was, but he insisted that I do something different. I cannot even remember what it was now.  I told my adar about it, and he was livid.  He marched down to the training fields and told Penntalion off.”

Eilian was speechless, although this was not the first time he had heard Tinár tell such a story.  He tried to imagine Thranduil’s reaction if he had refused to take correction from one of the novice masters. Thranduil would have been livid too, but the masters would not have been the target of his anger.  He had a sudden memory of himself impatiently telling his father that the stablemaster was wrong in his judgment of Eilian’s horse’s ability to take jumps.  Thranduil had been sharp in his reprimand at the overconfident disregard of someone else’s understanding.  So far as Eilian could tell, Tinár’s father thought he could do no wrong.  While it was true that Eilian occasionally felt that his father thought he could do no right, perhaps he had been lucky to have someone curb his own youthful misjudgments.

“I have something for you,” Eilian said, deciding that commenting on Tinár’s story would be pointless.  He held out the sword.  “There is some armor to go with it too.”  He gestured toward where the armor lay.

Even Tinár was struck wordless by the beauty of the weapon now being put in his hand.  Maltanaur and Gelmir, too, looked at the sword with professional appreciation.  “Now that is a sword worth owning,” Maltanaur said.

“Ithilden sent it and some others with the dispatches,” Eilian told them.  “Apparently he and the king have been dealing with the Dwarves.”  That fact astounded Eilian but he kept his surprise to himself.  Tinár stepped a little away from the fire and began wielding the blade, his delight in it obvious.

Gelmir edged closer.  “If I kill him, can I have that sword?” he muttered in Eilian’s ear.

Eilian smothered a laugh and then called to Tinár.   “Get your bow, Tinár. You and I are going rabbit hunting.”

Just behind him, he could hear Maltanaur snort.  “Have a good time,” he said sourly.  This time, Eilian did laugh softly.  Maltanaur did not ordinarily make remarks like that, but he was due for a leave when Eilian was.

With a final flourish, Tinár removed his old sword, sheathed the new one, and went to fetch his bow. Eilian, too, got his bow and the two of them started off into the forest, walking into the wind so as to keep their scents from reaching their prey. In this part of the woods, large game such as deer was scarce, but rabbits were plentiful and provided the main source of meat for the Southern Patrol. They also usually left fish lines set, and someone checked them daily.

They slid silently along, searching brushpiles, honeysuckle patches, fallen treetops, and other forest cover in which rabbits hid.  Both of them were good shots and they soon had enough meat to feed their fellow warriors.  They took their downed prey to the stream near which they were camped and began to clean it.

As he worked with his knife, Eilian cast about for a topic of conversation that would allow Tinár to talk about something other than himself.  He thought perhaps he could establish some sort of trusting relationship with this arrogant young fool and use it to coax him into becoming a real member of the patrol.  He seemed to recall that Tinár had a little brother not much older than Legolas.  He smiled at the memory of Legolas’s letter.

“You have a brother who is at the age to learn to hunt, do you not?” he asked.  “My little brother writes me that he has gotten his first real bow and our adar is teaching him to hunt deer.”

Tinár looked at him blankly.  “I suppose Galelas is hunting,” he said indifferently. “He does not write to me.”  Apparently, Tinár was less attached to his little brother than Eilian was to Legolas.  He finished with one rabbit and picked up another.

Eilian tried again.  “I remember getting my first full-sized bow.  I was so excited that it is a wonder I did not shoot Penntalion.”

To his surprise, Tinár bridled at this remark. “I have said I was sorry about shooting Maltanaur.  You do not have to keep bringing it up.”

Eilian was startled.  He and Todith had reprimanded Tinár after the incident, but he had not mentioned it since and, to his knowledge, Todith had not either.  “I was not talking about you shooting Maltanaur,” he protested.  “You acknowledged your mistake and are being more careful.  I have no reason to bring it up again.”

Tinár did not look mollified.  “Perhaps you are not holding a grudge, but I can tell you that others in this patrol are.  They are exceedingly unfriendly to me.”

Eilian blinked.  Suddenly he wondered if the Shadow was beginning to affect Tinár too, and perhaps make him more vulnerable.  His first leave would be due soon after Eilian came back from his. That meant he had now been on his first tour of duty in the south for two months or so.  He felt an unexpected stab of sympathy for the young warrior, but he suppressed it ruthlessly. Tinár needed to be told the truth about himself as often as possible, although Eilian greatly doubted that it would make much of a dent. “Frankly, I assume that their unfriendliness is due to your constant boasting rather than to the stray arrow.”

Tinár snorted. “You mean they are jealous. All my life, I have been plagued by jealous people.  My adar has taught me to ignore them.”

“Unfortunately, you cannot ignore your fellow warriors,” Eilian said sharply.  “You depend on them as they do on you.” It was now obvious to him that he was not going to be able to do this gently.

“Are you saying I should placate them?” Tinár sneered.

“Yes,” said Eilian promptly, “but more importantly, you should begin to learn their strengths instead of just thinking about your own.  Your considerable skill with a bow has to support what other members of the patrol are doing and be supported by them, but that cannot happen if you do not recognize what others can do.”  He hoped that Tinár would notice that Eilian had acknowledged his skill.

Tinár finished washing the last rabbit and stood up, his face flushed. “I am perfectly aware of what my fellow warriors can do,” he said defensively.

“I do not think you are,” Eilian stood up next to him.  “But as your lieutenant, I am going to require you to become aware of it.  You have two days to learn the chief strength and weakness of everyone else in the patrol.  I will expect you to report to me with what you have learned.”

Tinár stared at him open-mouthed.  “Is that a joke?” he demanded.

Eilian tightened his mouth and raised one eyebrow in a deliberate imitation of his father. “I assure you, it is not,” he said coldly.  He crouched down again to gather the meat they had prepared into a sack and wash his hands.  Then he stood. “Come,” he said to an obviously smoldering Tinár and started back to camp.

Once back at the campsite, he gave the meat to the warriors who were to cook that day. Then he glanced around. Tinár still stood at the point where they had reentered the campsite, apparently struggling with himself.  Then, with a determination for which Eilian gave him full credit, he squared his shoulders and walked up to a startled Gelmir. 

***

“We found it,” the scout reported breathlessly.

“The large colony?” Todith demanded, and the scout nodded in reply, his eyes gleaming.

Eilian felt a surge of excitement.  They had been battling mostly spiders for the last three weeks, but, while they had found a number of relatively small colonies, they had not yet located the large one from which the smaller ones had to be spreading.  They had been sending scouts out to follow trails of abandoned nests and webs but had had no success until now.

“How many spiders?” Todith asked.

“I would guess at least a hundred,” the scout answered.

“Be ready to lead us there,” Todith told him and then dismissed him.  He looked at Eilian.  “We need to kill as many as possible as soon as possible to even the odds a little. Once they start to scatter, they will be dangerous because they can come at us from so many angles.”

Eilian nodded.  “We should surround them and be prepared for rapid shooting at first, of course, but then, I think, we need to have three or four of us fall back a little to watch for anyone in danger of  being surprised or for spiders that are trying to circle around to the outside of our perimeter.”  He paused.  “Tinár could do that,” he offered.  He had been harrying Tinár into considering his fellow warriors for several days and saw no reason to stop now.  The fool was really incredibly self-centered and needed to be kicked in the backside on a regular basis, so far as Eilian was concerned.

Todith considered. “Will he stay where you put him?”

“Oh, yes,” said Eilian with an evil smile. He would speak to Tinár himself and insure that it was so.

Todith smiled slightly in response. “Very well,” he agreed mildly.  “His speed should make him useful in that position.”   He summoned the patrol and gave orders for their disposition. Then, with the scout in the lead, they were under way.

But before they left the camp, Eilian caught Tinár by the sleeve.  “I notice that Todith has assigned you to be one of those who guards the periphery,” he said.  “Perhaps he has forgotten how new you are to the patrol. I can speak to him about changing the assignment if you do not feel you could hold firm in that position.”

Tinár straightened his back and narrowed his eyes. “I assure you I am as capable of picking off stray spiders as is anyone in this patrol.”

“Very well,” agreed Eilian with seeming resignation, “if you are sure.”

“I am,” Tinár huffed and they went to join the others.

As they filtered silently into the trees in the location the scout showed them, Eilian could see that he had not exaggerated the number of spiders.  The Southern Patrol warriors were spread thin as Todith set them in position around the colony. Like his fellow warriors, Eilian stood with one arrow fitted to his bowstring and others set carefully to hand in his quiver.  They waited in absolute silence and then Todith gave a long whistle; arrows flew like a swarm of bees into the spiders’ nests.

With all the speed he had been trained to use, Eilian drew and released half a dozen times before the spiders had scattered enough that he needed to slow down, take aim, and keep a sharp eye out in all directions.  He dodged to one side, as a spider tossed a thread meant to ensnare him.  Before he could take aim at the spider itself, an arrow lodged in its belly and sent it reeling with its legs waving in the air. He glanced to one side and saw Tinár set well back from the main battle and already turning to shoot elsewhere.  Good, he thought, and went back to his own part in the fight.

For seasoned warriors, the spiders were not difficult foes, but they were repulsive ones, and Eilian found that the very sight and sound of them set his teeth on edge and caused his stomach muscles to tighten.  He worked grimly with his bow and occasionally with his sword when one of the skittering creatures got too close for bow work.  As the Elves continued their deadly assault, the number of spiders in the trees gradually lessened and the ground beneath became littered with black bodies.   And then, as if panic had caught all those remaining in a single flash, the spiders fled in a wave toward one side of the circle of Elves. The warriors before them held for a moment, shooting as rapidly as they could, but then they parted to allow the spiders to sweep through with Elves from the other side of the circle in hot pursuit.

Eilian was in the group of warriors who were driving the spiders before them and as he leapt through the trees, pausing to shoot at each new branch, exultation flooded him.  These bits of shadow would soon be gone from the forest and he would have helped to remove them.  Suddenly, from one corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement, and he realized that when the line of Elves in front of the spiders had parted, one had stayed put.  In a flash, he recognized Tinár.  What is he doing? Eilian wondered frantically.  Surely even Tinár does not think he can hold them back by himself!  But he knew with a certainty that made him furious that Tinár might very well be just arrogant enough to refuse to flee when even an elfling could have seen it was the only sensible course.

The mass of spiders now swept over the spot where Tinár stood, knocking him from the tree to the ground.  Most of the beasts were too frightened to even notice him, but to Eilian’s horror, three of them dropped to the ground with him and gathered around him. Eilian frantically nocked an arrow and aimed carefully in Tinár’s direction.  If he hit him, he would never hear the end of it, but Eilian had no choice, for the young warrior lay defenseless, having had the wind knocked out of him by his fall.  Eilian rapidly loosed two arrows in a row and two of the spiders fell, but the other had crawled onto Tinár and bitten him on the shoulder before Eilian saw another arrow pierce the creature’s side with such force that it knocked it off Tinár and pinned it to the ground.  Eilian looked over and saw Gelmir ready to shoot again if need be. But there was no further need, for the few remaining spiders had now fled with Elves in pursuit.

Followed by both Maltanaur and Gelmir, Eilian dropped down beside Tinár’s inert form. While Gelmir checked to make sure the three spiders were dead, Maltanaur and Eilian examined Tinár’s wound.  “That will put the little Dwarf spawn out of commission for a while,” Maltanaur opined, “but it will not kill him.”

“I wanted that sword,” said Gelmir plaintively as he came up beside them.

Eilian grinned at them. “Give me some water,” he said, reaching for his emergency healing pouch, “and we will get some antidote into him if we can before we haul him back to camp.”  Maltanaur handed Eilian his water skin and Eilian mixed herbs into the water before propping Tinár up and dribbling as much as possible between his lips while Maltanaur and Gelmir rigged a litter from branches, vines, and a cloak.  They loaded the paralyzed, nearly unconscious Tinár onto the litter and Gelmir and Maltanaur lifted it.

“You have to admit he did a good job of keeping the spiders from surprising anyone,” Maltanaur said thoughtfully.

“My naneth says that even Orcs have their uses,” said Gelmir piously.

Eilian grinned.  He was willing to wager that when Tinár came to and ceased being sick, he would be as obnoxious as ever. But he had been useful today and that, at least, was some sort of accomplishment.

***

Legolas selected one of the training swords from the rack and then flung himself down on the ground next to Annael and Turgon to wait for the blade master to finish with the older students and begin working with his own class.  Turgon hacked idly at the ground with his sword while Annael watched the class in progress.

“Tynd is really quite good,” Annael said, with no indication at all that he might begrudge Tynd’s skill.  Legolas regarded the pairs of older students who were fencing with blunted swords under the critical eye of the blade master.  Tynd was in the pair nearest them and his opponent was having a difficult time parrying his rapid attack.  Legolas thought that Annael was generous to admire the older student, when he and Riolith had been so rude to them. But then, Annael was nearly always generous.

Turgon frowned. “He and Riolith were looking for that buck yesterday.  I heard them talking about it.”  The three of them had scouted for the buck four times in the nearly two weeks since they had found the hoof prints on the beach, but they had not yet caught sight of it.

Legolas shrugged. “They are looking in the wrong place,” he reminded Turgon.  They all wanted to find the big deer, but Turgon seemed particularly obsessed by the idea.  Legolas had wondered several times if Turgon had been deer hunting with anyone other than him and Annael and had finally concluded that he had not.  Anticipating that they would eventually run into a deer, even if it was not the one they were hunting, Legolas had been trying to explain to Turgon what Thranduil had taught him about where to aim for a clean kill.  The last time they had gone hunting, he had noticed Annael doing the same kind of thing, so he thought that Annael, too, suspected that Turgon was learning this skill from his friends instead of his father.   The idea made Legolas feel sad.

“I know they are not hunting in the right place,” Turgon answered rather crossly, “but we are, and it does not seem to be helping us any.”  He swung his sword angrily at the ground again.

“That is enough for today,” called the blade master, and the older students immediately stopped what they were doing, bowed to him, and then drifted over to where the three friends sat near the rack of practice swords.  “I will be with you shortly,” the blade master told the half dozen younger students and then picked up a straw target he had been using in an earlier drill and carried it off to the masters’ hut near one side of the field.

“Wait a minute, Tynd!” called Riolith’s voice.  He had not been in the sword class and had only just trotted up to the field.  The two of them stopped to talk and Legolas, Annael, and Turgon listened unashamedly.  “I talked to my adar about hunting at night,” Riolith was saying excitedly.  “And he says that he will take us but not for a week.  He says the deer will be most active when the moon is full and we have to wait until then.”

“Excellent!” cried Tynd and the two of them walked off.

Legolas, Annael, and Turgon looked at one another. “They still will be looking in the wrong place,” Annael offered tentatively. They were silent for a minute.

Turgon stirred.  “I have an idea,” he said a little defensively.  As he had evidently anticipated, the other two groaned. Turgon’s ideas had landed them all in trouble more than once.

“What is it?” Legolas could not resist asking, although he knew it would be wiser not to.

“We should hunt at night, too,” Turgon said, “only we should not wait a week.”

The other two looked at him open-mouthed.  “Do you mean ask one of our adars to take us?” Annael asked.  “I do not think mine would.  He does not like me to be in the forest at night.”

“Then we do not need your adar,” Turgon responded.  Legolas noticed that Turgon did not even consider that Thranduil might accompany them. Not that his father would, Legolas knew. If anything, Thranduil was less likely to take them hunting at night that Annael’s father was.  “We can go by ourselves,” Turgon asserted.

*******

Thank you to everyone who is reading this story and especially to those of you who are reviewing it.  You always have interesting things to say.

Orangeblossom Took:  If you and your brother would have made the raft, then I sympathize with your parents!  I enjoy writing family dynamics so I am glad you like to read about them.

Lamiel:  An adolescence lasting as long as an Elf’s would really discourage parents from having many children!  And I think you are right about the moment when the raft dumps them. I should have noticed that I was out of everyone’s head the minute I wrote “the three of them.”

Dy:  You waded into a swamp?  I hope you didn’t find anything too creepy!

Luin: I always smile when I get your emails.  Ithilden is a lot like Thranduil, I agree, only we can kind of see him in the making.  I’m glad that Alfirin is in his future.  Turgon makes me sad too, and I can see how Eilian might have been like him if he hadn’t had firm guidance.  A swimming lesson would indeed be interesting to write about!  I wonder if Elves even wore swim-shorts!

Dot:  I thought the “voice of Thranduil” was kind of funny too.  I think all of Thranduil’s sons have their father’s voice in their head pretty firmly.  You can sure see it in Ithilden.

Frodo3791:  It must be hard not to be overprotective of your children when they are growing up in such a dangerous time and place.  Poor Thranduil!  He has to let the older ones do dangerous things because that’s their job but he would like to keep the little one safe for a while.

Caz-baz:  I hope this arrived in time to prevent insanity!  I am not fond of rats myself.  I don’t even like to think about them.

Bluebonnet:  Legolas isn’t always in trouble; it’s just that the troublesome moments are the ones it’s fun to write about.  Just think – he could go years with no trouble but elven childhoods are so long that there’s still plenty of time for it to come along.

Karen:  You do seem to be battling with the review system!  That image of Legolas on one foot was one that several readers liked and I did too!  “Huck, Tom, and Jim-Bob” – *snerk*.

Brenda:  I have never been able to figure out how to write about Ithilden’s and Eilian’s childhoods without going too OC, but I thought about your request and I think I have idea.  I could send the two of them off to do something dangerous and have Thranduil and Legolas at home waiting, with ada telling stories about the two absent ones, sort of like Nilmandra’s Elrond is doing about his own, long-ago childhood.  Yes!  I will put it in the file next to the story idea for Eilian’s bonding with Celuwen.

Feanen:  I’m glad you liked the chapter.  What a faithful reader you are!

Naneth:  Legolas did do well swimming out the river current, didn’t he?  There’s the germ of the grown elf he will become.  I’m glad you liked it.

Jay of Lasgalen:  Rafts are sort of inherently clumsy, I think.  Where I live, they have what are called Dragon Boat races on the river.  They are big canoe type boats with elaborate dragon heads carved on the prow.  I’m back to teaching now too. I am looking forward to the next chapter of “Search.”

StrangeBlaze:  The deer hunt is about to lead the little ones into trouble they don’t even understand plus some that they do!

LOTRFaith:  Yes!  I look forward to your story.  Poor Turgon needs a firm hand to guide him and, as I have reason to know (because I killed him), he doesn’t get it.

Erunyauve: What an interesting theory about the mithril shirt!  It would fit and is kind of a fun thing to think about.  I also thank you for the information about the Dwarves of Erebor that I cite at the start of this chapter.  I groaned at my own error but really did value knowing what Tolkien said. Also you were so nice about leaving me an out!

JastaElf:  Thank you, Jasta.  I fret a little about not being explicit enough sometimes.  And Cadoc is worrisome, yes indeed.  :-)

Draekon:  Ack!  Ff.net did not send me your review, so while I read it on the site, I did not have it in my file when I wrote the review responses.  And I wanted to say thank you for the very useful list of terms to use about shooting (not firing) an arrow. You are so right!

Nilmandra: Given that, as my beta, you see my characters more often that most folks do, I really value your opinion of their continuity. And, as always, I value the support and encouragement you give me.

LKK:  Thranduil is trying not to be overprotective. He’s not likely to restrain himself over what he sees as bad behavior though!  Legolas is heading for trouble.

Just Me:  You know, Ithilden scares me a little too.  I would not want to have him angry at me, either.  He is way too much like his father.

Legolas4Me:  You have hit the nail on the head. Legolas and his friends want to be grown up but they are not really ready, especially in a dangerous place like Mirkwood.

Sekhet:  Believe me, I understand what it is to be so absorbed in creating your own characters that it’s hard to focus on anything else!  I think Cadoc is worth taking note of.  It seems to me that it’s the Noldor who love making things, including weaponry. I’m not sure the Silvan elves would have cared about it as much.  Thank you for your enthusiasm. It made me smile.

Tigerlily713: Tsk! Tsk!  In church!  “Bad Lily” is right.  Thranduil would not approve.  I was actually kind of caught by the idea of the three friends sailing their raft all the way to Esgaroth.  I can picture them among the men and then the elves searching for them.  And I can certainly picture Thranduil’s reaction to the whole thing!  What a good idea.

Tapetum Lucidum:  The raft thing would give most parent heart attacks, I think.  And you are the first reviewer who has mentioned that the kids will be hunting near the men’s campground.  Clever you.