The air was getting colder. Steam rose off the wet moss on the trees and hung low over the shallow brooks to the east. He sat perched on a limb around fifteen feet off of the forest floor. He had been studying its tracks and the shallow scrapes it had made during the pre-rut season to mark the boundaries of its range. Elladan knew it would only be a matter of moments before it passed through this close group of pines again. Nature is wild, but predictably wild he thought to himself.
Suddenly he heard the gentle fall of hooves on the bed of pine needles blanketing the forest floor below him. It was a large buck, majestic and tall. Without making a sound he aimed his bow and let loose an arrow. The point pierced the heart of the stag and it dropped instantly, with minimal pain and suffering.
The lithe elf dropped from the tree above and quickly dressed the animal. He took care to save the hide as well as the meat. Within moments he had his prize strapped to his back and was running at full speed through the dense woods.
The events of the fall raced through his mind. The caravan, the rescue of the hobbit maid and their flight from the Goblin King. Wicked enemies would not soon forget such a grievous slight to their perverted sense of honor. Elladan did not believe they had seen the last of that goblin band.
His traveling companion, Podo, had been smitten with the feisty hobbit maiden they had rescued. Elladan wondered if he might soon be losing his charmed little friend to a life of marriage and comfort? He certainly did not begrudge Podo his happiness. They had seen dark things and places in their short time together. The shadow seemed to grow stronger with each step further away from their homelands, though there were pockets of vibrant life such as the quaint Easterly Inn. Elladan also found hope in the settlements of the Woodmen. The Beornings to their north were gruff and secretive people, but the Woodmen to the south were more open. They were more pragmatic about life in the Wilderlands.
He continued his brisk run through the trees until he came close to their edge. A clearing was ahead. He had approached a settlement of the Woodmen. Their small wood and stone dwellings had chimneys billowing warm grey smoke from their hearthfires. Elladan smiled a bit. He raced into the center of the group of homes undetected and hung the deer from a small rack. It would mean food and warmth for these people.
Suddenly he heard movement behind him. He turned quickly and saw a small child peering at him from behind a pile of firewood. The boy was no more than 6 years old. The boy waved at him quickly and then hid low behind the wood pile. Elladan pulled a small wooden flute from his pack and placed it on top of the firewood. He could see a small, wooden toy sword tied to the belt of the little boy.
"Good morning brave warrior" Elladan whispered to the child, who was still hiding behind the woodpile.
After a moment, the boy peered up over the edge of the woodpile, but the tall Elf was gone.
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