He was not wrong. There could be more wolves. There could be so many beyond some distant hill that the world writhed black and thick with them and she would never know of it unless she came across them or some messenger warned her off. Yet, even though he had no need or motive to do her harm, was he not a wolf as well of a different sort?
She turned over the bloodied cloth in her hands, not looking at it but unable to escape the metallic stench that emanated from it. She wasn't looking at Celegorm either, but instead at his horse. It was easier to think if she focused only on his animals, the steady heartbeat, the soft puff of breath. The way its long tail flicked and ears twitched, listening to both of them. Even the hounds at least had clear motives when they looked like they might eat her. Mithiel could not say the same for their master.
There were only a few moments between his question and her reply but it seemed, to her, to draw on forever.
'The trees have long been my friends, and I am not unarmed, my Lord. It is a day and a half's walk home.' It could be fine, or there could be wolves, or orcs, or other goblins and twisted things. There could even be folk with malicious intent. She had never in her life been this far north and could not hope to guess but she did trust in fate at least for the most part. 'I would not ask you to delay your hunt so long.' For the elves, it was almost nothing in time but his prey would move or hide or make trouble.
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She turned over the bloodied cloth in her hands, not looking at it but unable to escape the metallic stench that emanated from it. She wasn't looking at Celegorm either, but instead at his horse. It was easier to think if she focused only on his animals, the steady heartbeat, the soft puff of breath. The way its long tail flicked and ears twitched, listening to both of them. Even the hounds at least had clear motives when they looked like they might eat her. Mithiel could not say the same for their master.
There were only a few moments between his question and her reply but it seemed, to her, to draw on forever.
'The trees have long been my friends, and I am not unarmed, my Lord. It is a day and a half's walk home.' It could be fine, or there could be wolves, or orcs, or other goblins and twisted things. There could even be folk with malicious intent. She had never in her life been this far north and could not hope to guess but she did trust in fate at least for the most part. 'I would not ask you to delay your hunt so long.' For the elves, it was almost nothing in time but his prey would move or hide or make trouble.