They were exhausted after the night’s march, but the lightening sky, and the knowledge that the beasts were stirring with the dawn, heartened all the Company.  There was a salt lick that Strider knew was along their route, and after all the hobbits’ spirits had been raised by the prospect of easy game, Gandalf had promised a halt once they reached the spot.  As luck would have it, they arrived at just the right time.  Gimli, Gandalf, Boromir, and the hobbits quietly pitched their camp upwind of the lick, while Aragorn and Legolas lay in wait.

“Ever had venison before, Sam?” whispered Pippin, as if talking a quarter-mile away from the lick would frighten the deer away.

Sam shook his head.

“Shame,” said Pippin.  “It’s better than most game.  We have it quite often in Tookland.”

“Unfortunately,” Frodo said drily, “the deer were chased out of Bywater along with the forest.  It was a special treat even in Buckland, I think.”

Merry nodded.  “No one in his right mind would eat any of the creatures out of the Old Forest.”

“Well, then,” said Pippin, “since I seem to be the only one here who knows how to fix venison properly, I guess I’ll be doing the cooking tonight.  Now, if we could just find some juniper…”

Gimli coughed.

“What?” said Pippin.  “No…”

“Dwarves do not live on cram alone,” said Gimli.  “Give me a proper fire, and I’ll give you a roast the likes of which you haven’t seen in—”

“We haven’t a proper fire,” said Gandalf.  “In fact, it is only with the greatest misgiving that I am letting you have a fire at all.”

“Because our morale is very, very low, and we are very, very hungry,” said Pippin.

“Do they have venison in Gondor, Boromir?” said Merry.

“Indeed we do,” said Boromir, “and the men of Ithilien often smoke and dry it, so that it will keep on long days of travel.”

All four hobbits grimaced.  “Can’t imagine why more dried meat would sound unappealing,” said Frodo.

“It’s not fresh meat as I’m after,” said Sam, “it’s fruit!”

“Good luck getting that this time of the year,” Pippin said morosely.

They heard Legolas step deliberately on a twig.

“Hullo, Legolas!” said Pippin.  “Do you cook venison in Mirkwood?”

“When we can find it,” said Legolas.  “Most of the deer have fled the Shadow, but ere it came to the Greenwood they were plentiful.”  He blinked.  “I hope you were not looking forward to deer.”

“No!  No, not at all,” said Pippin, clearly crestfallen.  “I thought you and Strider would have been able to get one, is all.”

“I shall not spoil the surprise, then,” said Legolas.  “Gimli, Boromir, we have need of more stout arms to bring our find to the camp.”

They left the hobbits to discuss eagerly what Legolas and Aragorn could possibly have felled, and Gandalf to listen bemusedly to their speculations.

Meanwhile, Aragorn stared at his catch.  He’d never killed one of these in the wild before, though Master Elrond had once told him of his sons deliberately seeking one out for Mettarë when they were on patrol with the Rangers.

How exactly did one go about cooking wild boar on the road, anyhow?