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Rough panting echoed off the towering trees, harsh and abrasive as it hit the ashen bark and glanced off. The shadows were long and deep, pits of darkness forming in the hollow of the rolling hills and tapering off into the silver moonlight, only to be plunged into blackness again by one of the pale birches. The breathing stopped, replaced by the deep gasps for air that came from a pair of cloaked figures standing in the shadows, the dark grey fabric blending in with the shifting greys and blues that changed as the wind moved the leaves overhead.
The clouds parted briefly, allowing a single beam of moonlight to shine down into the forest, illuminating the dips and hollows between old roots and dead boughs, hanging low from the still-living trunks. The light reflected off the trees, a sickly pallor that mixed with the heavy worry that sat in Jimmy's stomach as he wrapped his cloak around himself, leaning back to press his heavy pack against the bark of the tree they shared their shadows with.
Grian plopped down across from him, stretching out his feet and rooting his toes in the grass. The hobbit leaned back, resting his pack and gear on the ground and using it as a support for his head as he reclined, staring up at the cloudy sky and dark leaves.
"Do you think we lost them?" Jimmy asked, his voice a ghost of a whisper that barely penetrated the silence. Grian tilted his head, then wrapped his arms and cloak around himself, tucking the fabric in to create a shield against the night chill that was beginning to set in.
"Probably," he replied. "I can't hear anyone chasing us anymore, and Joel said he'd lead them off. I don't know where he's gone off to, but hopefully, he'll manage to meet us here."
Jimmy sighed, pulling up his hood to hide his face as he leaned out, peering through the shadows. He stood on his toes and strained upwards to see over the bank they'd slid behind when they first arrived. A brief wish to be tall crossed his mind and he crushed it, staying low as he slowly pushed himself up to look around. Nothing moved in the forest as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something to shatter the false peace that had set in around them.
He pulled back into the shadows with a nod. "I can't hear or see anything," he confirmed, mimicking Grian and settling on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest. Now that he'd been out of the Tumble for a few weeks and in the wilderness, travelling to the Dawn Kingdom, it was almost easy to forget that he'd been among the Big Folk for that one night.
Grian snorted, turning the noise into a half laugh. "Probably because you're too short," he jabbed.
Jimmy huffed. "Am not," he griped. "I'm a full inch taller than you."
"Three-five isn't much better against Joel's five-ten," Grian shot back. "You're not even tall in our own folk. Just average."
A figure materialised out of the shadows before Jimmy could retort, looming over the pair of hobbits before he removed the hood of his cloak from his head. "Any louder and I could have shot you in the dark," Joel whispered, leaning his tall frame over the pair. "Come on. The Nazgûl are gone, for now, but they're still after what you've got—" he poked a gloved finger at Jimmy– "in your pocket."
Jimmy's hand strayed to his chest pocket, checking that the button and flap over it were still secure. He felt the cold bump of the Ring resting against his chest as he patted the pocket, satisfied with its state. A stray thought tugged on his mind, but he shoved it off. Pix had said to keep it secret, keep it safe, and by the ghosts of his ancestors, Jimmy was going to do that.
Joel scanned the shadows above them, one hand resting on Jimmy's shoulder. "We should keep moving," he said, removing his hand and creeping out of the shadows. "The forest isn't safe; for different reasons than the Nazgûl. If we're lucky, we'll run into Bdubs and Etho. If not, we'll hunt for them after dawn."
Jimmy watched his movement, watched how stiffly he moved, a sharp contrast to his usual grace and stealth. He put a hand to the still-warm, somewhat wet patch on his shoulder, then brought his hand in front of his face. He breathed deeply, catching the metallic tang of blood from the sticky drops on his fingers. Grian hauled himself to his feet, shrugging his pack into place.
"Let's go, Tim," he said, clambering out of the dirt hollow and trailing behind Joel as he moved from shadow to shadow, still stiff and with a slight limp. Jimmy brushed his hand off on the fabric of his pants, then followed after the pair. His hand rested on his chest over the Ring. They just had to make it to Dawn. Then, everything would be fine.