by Sasjah Miller

While the Fellowship rests from the long day's march, Aragorn goes hunting.

Though the deer's death in the little clearing is swift and painless, birds scatter noisily when Aragorn appears from under the trees to retrieve his catch. He lifts the dead animal, food for two days, onto his shoulders and returns to the makeshift camp, a soft, lilting Elvish song on his lips.

When at last the meat is roasting on the fire that Boromir has started, the balance between life and death in the ancient forest has been restored; and redolent smoke rises to meet the star-splattered sky.

The End