“Don’t move, Master Gimli!”
Awakened from his garden rest, the dwarf froze at Sam’s exclamation. Hand flexing, he gripped the ax lying beside him, prepared to face whatever foe might threaten.
Eyes closed he waited.
The hobbit whispered, “Be very still…”
He could feel hairs on his scalp rise in warning. What fell creature dared breach this sanctuary, now that Mordor was vanquished? A creeping feel across his cheek and brow spurred him; growling he gained his feet, ax held at ready.
In a flurry and much to Sam’s dismay the gathered butterflies fled. “There now, you’ve frightened them off.”