32. Tracking

We take a different route through the forest as we leave. We’ve baskets for gathering and Faeglin’d promised Erúvë he’d do some rooting for her. I’m fair certain there’s love brewing there but I don’t press the matter. Elves live so long, I don’t imagine they feel much rushed in matters of the heart as we mortals do.

We’re just finishing with our gathering when Faeglin spots some tracks. 

“I know that hoofmark,” he says, excited. It appears to be as normal a deer track as any other to me. “Come, Panthael. You’ll want to see this.”

I glance up at the sky, but the tree cover is too heavy to get a glimpse of the sun. Still, it has to be near teatime. I hope this doesn’t take too long.

We follow the tracks for what feels like miles as the light fades. My stomach grumbles, so I pull out some bread to nibble on. I offer some to Faeglin but he declines, bent on his task.

At length, we reach a clearing but just before we get too close to the wood’s edge, he stops me. Raising a finger to his lips, we slowly creep forward, making nary a sound. There, in the middle of the clearing, is a large buck with a rack of antlers nearly as big as me.

I’m wondering why Faeglin is so excited and about to ask when the buck lefts his head, sniffing the air. He’s smelled us and is trying to decide if we’re a threat. He turns his head and the moonlight catches on something tangled about its antler. It’s too far away to see clearly but it appears to be a polished stone attached to a leather cord. A necklace.

I laugh suddenly, remembering Frodo’s letter. We’ve found Pippin. 

GF 10/18/12

To be continued...