The sun’s rays were just peaking from the tops of the trees as Enola and Griffal laden their ponies and set out on the road heading south-west to connect with the Greenway Old South Road. Griffal hadn’t been sure if that road even existed in present time, but he hadn’t heard of any danger awaiting in that direction. It had to be the best way, right? He wished they could travel the same road as their heroes, but it would be utterly impossible. *Not very wise for two hobbit tweens. At least, less wise than what we’re doing now.*

"I think my pony needs a rest" Enola announced, breaking the silence. She tugged on her pony’s bridle and came to a halt, hopping off. "Do you think we should set camp for the day?"

Griffal laughed. "Dear sister, it’s barely evening. We could go for another mile." He hopped off his pony as well. "I was pondering..."

"Really?" Enola quirked with a plop on a soft, patchy spot of grass. She waved him over and pulled him to her level. She eyed intently.

"What?"

"Your eyes aren’t cross. Must not have pondered too hard."

Griffal sighed, jerking his arm from her hand. "Enola Wise Acre, I’m trying to be serious. I wondered if we are doing the right thing, going off just the two of us without a larger party."

"You were the one who threw this very subject in my face! You are very slow to think."

"Well, what if we lose our way and never get back to the Shire?" He started pacing in anxiety. "I’ll never get to taste Mama’s strawberry cream again."

"Calm down, Griff, and stop thinking with your stomach! Come sit by me." She patted the spot of grass beside her. Griff, with a heavy sigh, obeyed. "Everything has a reason and purpose. Our purpose may be for us to keep alive this great memory of honor. We’ll make it." She smiled. "Now you have me consoling you. May I see the map?"

"Of course." Griff slipped off his pony, pulling out the rolled parchment from one of his packs. He trotted back to his sister, and handed it to her.

"Thank you." Enola unrolled it. Tears housed the edge of the map, which was yellowed. "How old is this?"

"I couldn’t exactly get my hands on a newer map. This was the best I could do."

Enola turned to him. "Griff, how old is -this- map?" she persisted again.

Griff scooted away a bit, an abashed redness glowing from his face. "About two hundred years old. Maybe more."

"Griffal Wise Acre! You did steal a map!"

"Narnor wouldn’t believe my story of wanting to do a study of Middle-earth’s regions."

"Of course not!" Enola pushed her forefingers against his forehead. "You’re a dimwit!" It took less than five seconds for En to straddle her pony and begin to ride off.

"Enola!" Griffal stumbled over the thick grass before hopping his horse to ride up beside his sister. "You know, you are truly a combination of Quash and Wise Acre with that spouting temper."

Enola threw him a sidelong glare, but an amused twinkle in her eyes betrayed her anger. The argument was forgotten for the time being, Enola spoke, "Are we going through Bree?"

"Sadly, no. We’re going nowhere near there."

"Are you sure we can’t make a detour to Auntie Leesel’s home? She makes the best rolled biscuits."

Griffal laughed. "Now who’s thinking with their stomach?" He laughed even harder as his sister blushed crimson red. "Open the map and look for Greenway Old South Road." Enola did so.

"Oh, I see where we’re heading."

"I wish we could, but Auntie Leesel is in Chetwood. That is seriously out of our way. We’re travelling south crossing the Brandywine then the River Greyflood to where Isengard use to be."

Enola turned to face him swiftly. "Isengard is not there anymore?"

"From what I have heard, the land was left to the Ents back in the days after the War of the Ring. The Ents made the land into a splendid garden until they moved on in search of the Entwives. No more was heard of them. Some Men dwelled there for years after, but deserted it when the land suddenly died. From then on it has been called Grievous."

"That is horribly sad!" Enola said, frowning. "I was hoping we may catch a glimpse of the magnificent gardens of old."

"The road, I’m almost sure of, is desolate save for a small town below the Brandywine. We’ll pick up more supplies there. I’m sure we’ll have enough food and water till we come to Rohan." Griffal turned to her and continued, "It will be a very long and empty road. Are you absolutely positive? We can still turn back."

"The long and empty road is worth it to be in the land of Gondor. Besides, we know an awful lot of songs..."

Griffal smiled. "A true traveller’s answer."