Fifteen

            A herd of does and fawns grazed their way slowly across the meadow.  Estel watched with delight, and he automatically counted them.  “Fourteen!” he breathed.

            But Elrohir was shaking his head.  “Nay,” he corrected in a near whisper.  “Look again, Estel.”

            Estel scanned the scene again—and again.  Finally the boy saw it—a great buck standing on watch in the shadow of the trees.  “I see it!  Not fourteen, but fifteen!  And he is magnificent!”

            “Indeed—a lord among stags,” agreed his brother, “carefully watching over his own.”  And may you do as well, he thought.