Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I make no money from this writing.

Once we are back in the house, the list of things that need to be done seems to grow by the moment. I wonder where to start.

"I'll go and see if Halbarad is feeling better!" Estel says. "I want him to come with us too! And I must see if Elladan is all right, and then I must find my new boots."

"You're going to be good at organising expeditions," Legolas tells the boy, giving me an enigmatic smile.

"I am?" Estel says. "When? Is that when I'm old enough or am I beginning now? Will we need to take provisions, Papa? And weapons? How far do you think we will have to go? And when are you going to help me make my bow, Legolas, because I might need it soon. But then we can't stop because Spider must have gone a long way by now so I suppose we'll have to be having this expedition for at least a couple of days."

There is something in this explosion of ideas which troubles me but as I am also preparing my list it escaped me. Then I have it. "Halbarad is unwell? Why didn't you tell me before that Halbarad is unwell?"

Estel's comments slide to a stop. "I forgot," he says.

"You forgot he was ill?"

"I forgot to tell you." He is actually blushing. "What happened yesterday, it was all a bit more complicated than I told you before."

"Ah," I say. "Well then. Come into my study. We must have a little talk about this."

He is squirming to get away. "But Papa! I have to do so many things! I can tell you after we've found Spider, can't I?"

I steer him towards my study. Legolas is smiling broadly at me now.

"I shall go and see to the preparations," he says. He cannot keep the laughter out of his voice and Estel looks at him. He is not a happy boy but he manages to keep his mouth shut.

"Please, see if Halbarad is being tended," I say and he nods.

Inside my study it is a little gloomy. My desk has many papers on it which require my attention but there is time for them. There is little enough time to teach this child what he needs to know.

"Be still, child," I say. "And be quiet until I tell you to speak."

He stands in front of me doing his best to follow instructions.

"Now. You will tell me what happened yesterday. You will tell me in as few words as you can, without taking any side tracks, everything that happened."

"We went to play with – to train Spider," he started, grimacing at his choice of words. "In the morning, after I'd seen to my tree – in the morning."

He really is doing his best.

"We took him to the training-ground and had him going nicely round in circles, walking and trotting."

"I believe you said you were grooming him," I prompt, trying to steer him gently.

"I'm coming to that! Anyway, Halbarad rode him, because you said I wasn't to, and then we led him back to the rails and to tie him up there for a minute, so that I could give him a quick brush down. We were," he screws up his face in the shame of what he must tell me next, "we were being captain and lieutenant, and I said there was a warg behind Halbarad, and he swung round like this," he demonstrates, "and I jumped forward to help him and I think I startled Spider a bit. The next thing I saw was him running through the gate. It was open, somehow."

"Does he still have his halter on?"

Estel has to stop mid-thought but I cannot allow him to give me every detail. There simply isn't time.

"I think so. No – he must have."

"Which way did he go?"

"Down towards the river. We tried for hours and hours but Halbarad slipped on some rocks and hurt his ankle, so we had to come back here so his ankle could be wrapped up."

"Did you not think to get any help?"

He is silent. I know why he did not – he was hoping to find the pony before anyone discovered the boys' mismanagement of him. Well, it is not entirely his fault. I was not here to guide him and he is only nine.

"And has Halbarad been tended to properly?"

"Of course! A good captain always takes care of his men!"

"Well, now, go and speak quickly to Halbarad. Fetch anything you think you might need. We will track all day if need be and I will send riders to scour the countryside. But there may come a time when you will have to relinquish this pony and let this experience guide you in the future."

He nods sadly. It is a bitter idea but he must be prepared for the worst. I send him on his way and gather a few necessities of my own for our journey.

It is quite a while before we are ready. When Estel reports back, he is wearing such an extraordinary mixture of garments that I am hard put not to stare at him. He has a new pair of boots, which he has somewhat haphazardly cross-laced over his leggings. He is wearing one of his finest shirts – though I will concede it is one of his warmest, too – and over that, Halbarad's leather coat. It must be Halbarad's since it is clearly too long for him, though not quite long enough to trip him up. He has belted it in to take up the slack material and has a knife pushed through the belt. His cloak is rolled and tied around him in the manner of his people.

"I am a Ranger now," he says proudly.

"You're too clean," Legolas says, coming to stand behind him. "But we can soon put that right." He ruffles his hair and makes him duck. "Halbarad's ankle is swollen," he reports. "He will need to rest today."

Estel nods his acceptance of Legolas' diagnosis.

"Did you say goodbye to your brothers?" I ask.

"No, Papa. They're both sleeping. I know Elladan needs his rest but Elrohir is just being lazy. Can we go now?"

"When you have been to the kitchens. You need your mid-morning food. And we will return at midday, too. How will you grow tall and strong if you do not eat properly?"

He clamps his mouth shut and heads purposefully for the kitchens. I did not intend my words to be an order but clearly they are taken as such and like a good soldier, he does as he is told. When Legolas and I catch up with him, he is eating the spice cake which the cook has prepared for him, taking alternate bites of that and of an apple.

I nod in satisfaction and he smiles.

"Come, then. Let us see if we can find this pony," I say and he rises, brushing crumbs from his coat and grabbing the satchel at his feet. "I have food here for midday, so we can stay out a bit longer. It has stopped raining. We will stay out until we have more idea of what happened yesterday."

At last we are outside. It is windy but bright and clear now, with small white clouds flying by. We start by the training-ground and all three search for some tracks. Then I hear Legolas call Estel to him. He points to the ground. The boy stands close and then goes on his knees, his fingers splayed, touching the earth gently.

"See, Estel. Look carefully. See your pony coming this way and making this mark."

He twists his head up and looks at Legolas, puzzled. "I can't see anything!" he complains. "Except this little mark here. Is that what you mean?"

"Further on, Estel. Look – there." Legolas directs his hand and then Estel sees it, the indentation slightly curved. Most of it is obliterated under other marks but I know as soon as I see it that Legolas has judged it aright.

"How do you know it's his?" Estel asks, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Show me – show me!"

Legolas takes up a stick and draws out the rest of the print, carefully extending the curve of the mark in the ground.

"Oh!" says Estel, tracing the shape round with his finger. "This is just the right size!"

"Forefoot or hind?" Legolas asks.

"How am I supposed to know?" Estel asks.

"See the pony. See him. Here – and here." Legolas sets off crabwise, pointing out the marks which begin to make a pattern, though it is lost over and over again in the mud and foot and hoof prints which crisscross this roadway. Estel is following him, setting his hand in each print as he goes, until the pattern begins to become clearer.

"This one is on the same side as this one," Estel says, giving us his thoughts aloud. "This one, that falls here – then that one, then this one." He is making progress now and Legolas stands, watching him intently.

"This is the print of his fore foot," Estel says confidently. "And this is his hind foot!"

"Yes. Now. Follow him as far as you can. I will guide you if you need me to."

"I can do it!" Estel says, moving more quickly now, reaching out with his hand to find tracks which are obliterated then appear again.

"He is trotting now!" he says, moving more quickly as if to keep up with his pony. "I can see him! I can see him!" He is off down the track, so absorbed in finding the tracks that he does not notice the large puddles through which he splashes, or the mud on which his feet slip. Then he comes to a dead halt.

Legolas has stepped back and comes to walk by my side. "He learns quickly," he says. "But he will be balked in a moment. There – see. Should I leave him to find the way or help him?"

"Help him," I say. "He is excited now and I would not have him lose hope so soon." Estel is casting about, for he has come to a crossroads where many horses have been and the recent rain has reduced the marks to a muddy wash. He does not give up but he does not find anything, either, though he crosses and returns over all four tracks.

"Halbarad and me just went straight on down to the river, Legolas," he says when he comes back. He is panting a little for he has been working hard.

"Why?" Legolas asks.

"I just thought it seemed the right way to go. But there are none of his tracks anywhere that I can find."

"Then we shall look together," he says and the pair go back to work. I look up at a bright sky but on the horizon, a line of darker clouds quickly approaches. We have an hour at most before it rains again.

Suddenly there is a shout from Estel, who has been working just ahead of Legolas on the road that leads to the left at the crossroads. I am pleased it is the boy who has found the marks, and from Legolas' surprised glance I suspect he had found nothing himself. I hurry over to Estel, who is pointing at the ground and there, once more, is the evidence of his pony's escape.

"Well done!" I say. "That required some skill to find – it is nearly hidden under the larger hoof print. Now, go on."

The boy runs forward, hunched over looking for sign, and Legolas and I follow his lead. We have no more stops for a while, then Estel pauses and begins again to cast around. We catch up and he stands, hands on hips, looking ahead then to each side. We are standing in a field which will later yield a good hay crop. Beyond it, the mountains climb over one another up to the sky, their peaks piercing the clouds. A light drizzle begins to fall and the views mists over.

"I have lost his track," he says, crossly. "Yet I do not understand why. It had become easier and easier to follow but now it seems as if he has jumped into the air and flown away."

"Then let us pause here for a moment, and think," I say, giving Estel some water to drink. He stares all round but shakes his head. The pony is nowhere in sight.

Estel narrows his eyes as he thinks. "I must have missed something," he says at last, and prepares to backtrack.

"That is good thinking," I approve and watch as he patiently walks back along the track. I want to give him some advice but Legolas lays his hand on my arm.

"He will see it, I think. The pony left the trackway fifty yards back. But he will have to be sharp-eyed and must not give up."

We watch him walking the edge of the track, pacing quickly, and Legolas calls, "You are working too quickly! Be patient!"

Estel slows but finds nothing, and he has gone past the place Legolas pointed out to me. Legolas watches, then calls again. It is raining more heavily now and we need to get among the trees for some shelter.

Estel comes back towards us, his shoulders a little slumped now, and I want Legolas to go and help him but Estel suddenly pauses, near to falling over his own feet as he stops and peers down. Then he is off, bounding through the grass with a whoop of joy that tells me I was right to say nothing. We follow him quickly and he runs ahead of us, following his horse's trail down the field towards the river.

I had planned to let him find the place where his pony reached the Bruinen., then stop there, with that useful information. Estel has other ideas. Though it is raining hard when we reach the river, he is searching in the shallows, splashing about with his coat trailing in the water.

"Are you hoping to track him over the water?" Legolas asks, while I go after my boy and haul him out.

"Estel! The water is freezing! Legolas, start a fire. Come here, child!"

Estel suffers me to untie his cloak from round him and wrap him in it, while Legolas searches out some dry wood and starts a fire.

"I saw his prints go right into the water," he says, his teeth chattering with the cold. "The bank is all muddy here. But they do not go very far and I thought I could see whether he went upstream or down. He couldn't cross, could he, Papa?"

I am busy rubbing his arms to warm him and cannot think of the answer he needs. Smoke begins to rise from the flames and I push Estel closer to the warmth. Legolas feeds the flames with more wood and Estel soon stops shivering.

"Could he cross here?" Estel asks again, pulling his cloak more tightly round him. "Will we have to cross here?"

"He could," Legolas answers. "But would he? He is long way from food and the comfort of his own kind now. It would seem more likely that he would try to make his way back."

"Let us return to the house, then, and I will send others here to track him further. You have done well, child."

"No!"

There now, why didn't I expect that?

"No! I want to go on! It's dangerous for a pony out here and he's been away days! He won't be able to look after himself!" Estel is pulling away from me hard. "We have to go on! We have to cross the river!"

The rain eases again but the wind is greater, throwing the heads of the trees around and showering us with droplets. Legolas is crouching by the fire, watching Estel with interest.

"Estel …" I begin, marshalling my arguments in favour of returning for more help.

But as I begin, a sound echoes down from the woods beyond the river. It seems to quieten everything as it comes down on the wind and Estel stands frozen. Legolas has jumped to his feet and has his hand to his brow as he peers into the distance.

"Wolf," he says, his voice hushed.

"Spider!" Estel shouts and leaps beyond my grasp, running straight for the water. "Spider!"