As I sat on a dry stone wall overlooking the Greenfields I took stock of the situation. My quarry had already departed and I was at best a half day behind him. He had been heading north that much was clear. I decided that he must have taken the road, a hobbit not used to these parts would be foolish to strike out across country – there were many hazards, not least the warren of old badger tunnels, but also more recent threats. The threat of goblins. I had my doubts that all the stories were true but I would trust to the handful of reliable locals that had seen something out there, especially as you got progressively further north.
Pausing only long enough to enjoy a chunk of local sheep cheese and some of the delicious dark bread that I am sure is flavoured with beer, I collected some provisions from the local market stalls and shouldered my pack. Rumours of goblins or not, it was certain to me that I couldn't risk the road, at least for a good part of the way.
As the land rose and fell and the last of the stone walls was but a thin grey line on the horizon I felt my spirits lifting again. The wind was light, coming from the north-west and the spring air was pleasantly warm. I stopped only briefly at midday, watching the sheep being put out to graze and letting my eye wander over the dells and small hillocks that lay behind me. A lone shepard was the only figure to be seen. I watched him for some time as he wound his way toward a small copse of trees before he was lost to my sight. It was only then that I noticed he had left his flock far behind. This was no shepherd. I told myself it could have been a hunter after rabbit... but I knew this fellow was after much larger game... I would not be caught in the open again... this time I would be prepared.
