God of middle earth (12/n)

Dundro shut the door to his hobbit hole. He adjusted the straps of his rucksack that were chafing his skin. Then he looked into the night.

No light from the heavens nor the ghostly moon could penetrate the gloomy clouds. Thus night, which was usually lit up like day from the jewelled sky, was as dark as pitch. It was the perfect night to make an escape from somewhere. Dundro nodded. He had chosen a good night to execute his plan. He crept silently yet swiftly down the main road.

He was walking, walking... with naught but a pilot flame to illuminate the immediate path. Dundro felt his senses heighten under the influence of adrenaline such that the song of the lark sounded like a symphony in his ears, the crackle of leaves beneath his feet an earthquake.

He continued like this until he decided to divert from the main road and into the cornfields, thus providing more cover against the marauding Enemy. And more cover for them, whispered a voice in Dundro’s head. He quickly shut that voice out.

At last he came to the fence separating grass and cornstalk. He walked round and found a path through the fields. At last, the clouds parted, and the moon shone in full splendour. The ears of corn and wheat far and wide caught its light. Dundro forged ahead, making no noise whatsoever, creeping forward.