“I tells ya, Rom, I can smell ‘em even if I can’t see ‘em. They’re burning something. Something I ain’t never smelled before.”

“Well they can’t be Elves, cause they don’t burn nothin’ out in the wild. Must be some of them Rangers.”

“Don’t think so. Rangers aren’t that sloppy. These whoever-they-are go walking about in the Wild as if they own the place. They don’t even bother to cover their tracks. And mighty peculiar tracks they are too. It’s like they’re barefoot or something. But nobody I know goes around barefoot in the Wild.”

“Those little people from down south do, Rufus.”

“How do you know?”

“I messed with one of ‘em once about ten years ago. A shepherd out moving his flock in ta pasture out past their borders. I got meself a heap of lamb that year! Me and ole Rosco. We kept going after that poor ole halfling’s flock each night. Made off with five the first night, three the second, and six the next. Well, that little blighter turned and hightailed it back to his own country as fast as his little naked feet could scurry. Thought we was some sort of boogie men I imagine.” An oily laugh came out of his mouth.

“How come we don’t go raidin’ down there, if they’re so small and easily frightened?”

“Oh, they band together when they’re in their own lands. You kin steal a sheep or cow or pig or two when ya have to, but it ain’t worth the trouble and travel. Rumor’s got it that the Rangers don’t let no one into the halfling’s land unless it’s for legit business.”

Two men sat at the edge of the upland meadow in the darkness of the moonless night. The larger of the two picked his yellow teeth with a hunting knife and spat on the ground. “So, Rom, what do ya recon these halflings are doin’ up here? They ain’t got no sheep, that’s for sure.”

“Dunno,” Rufus said as he stood up. “Halflings are not know fer travel. Maybe they got some gold or goodies on ‘em. Maybe they’re lost messengers with somethin’ we can use as ransom. Maybe they ain’t even halflings. It might be a couple of dwarves from the Blue Mountains. In any case, I aims to find out who they are and what they got on ‘em.” He drew his sword and started walking towards the apple tree in the distance.

An owl hooted in the darkness. Another owl answered nearby. And suddenly the two men were face to face with several tall, hooded and cloaked men whose bows and arrows were pointed directly at their faces.

“Cripes!” yelped Rufus. “Don’t shoot! We didn’t know you was here!”

“That much is quite evident,” a soft, silky voice came from behind one of the masks. “Now remove your swords and place them on the ground.”

The men did as they were bid. “Who are you? What do you want from us?”

“Silence,” came the cold reply. One of the hooded men picked up the discarded swords and disappeared into the night. “Don’t move, if you value your life.”

Rom tried to not flinch as he and Rufus were searched and their hunting knives deftly removed. They were unarmed now.

“Look, whoever you are,” Rufus bluffed, “we’re with a large group of armed men, and you’re going at be in serious trouble unless you let us go.”

A faint snort came from one of the hooded men.

“We have been following you for two days now, gentlemen, and we know you are alone.” The silken voice stepped forward out from the shadow and into the starlight. The tall stately being removed his hood, revealing long, straight golden hair and a fair Elvish face with dark hard-set eyes glinting with deadly intent. “If I were you, I would leave the Emyn Uial tonight and return to your lair near Fornost. Leave the travelers alone and we will set you free to go about your, ah, business, elsewhere.”

Rom gasped at seeing the unhooded Elf in the starlight. Such beauty combined with deadly intent. He grabbed his mate’s arm and tugged. “Cripes, Rufus! Do what he says! I don’t wanna end up fallin’ under one of them Elf spells!”

“Shut up, ya superstitious cow,” Rufus grumbled. He turned to address the Elf. “Return our weapons to us, and we will leave. You can’t be so cruel as to make us go unarmed in the Wild Lands. That ain’t the law.”

“If I were cruel I would have ordered you shot where you stood instead of allowing you to leave at all,” the cold answer came. “And I would not be quoting the law to those who still remember that there is a King. Now be off. Remember that Rangers still patrol Arnor. If you return you shall be killed at sight by orders of the Lord of Imladris.” The hooded men lowered their weapons and silently faded back into the shadows of the Wild.

Rufus and Rom grabbed their packs and headed out into the darkness.

“Your orders?” one of the Rangers asked the Elf.

The Elf turned an address another of the hooded Men. “What shall we do, Ellessar?”

“Talfan,” a weary voice directed another of the cloaked Rangers. “Take their weapons with you and follow them for a couple of days. If they hold true to their word and return to their cave, leave their weapons in it before they arrive. If they deviate from their destined course at all, or if they start to formulate plans against the hobbits, kill them.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Peace once again descended on the high country meadow, save for the occasional hooting of an owl.