the old man: how many secrets of the past it knew; how many tales which
men of the present had forgotten, but which yet mayhap men of times to
come should learn of it; for to them yet living it had spoken time and
again, and had told them what their fathers had not told them, and it
held the memories of the generations and the very life of the Wolfings
and their hopes for the days to be.

Thus these poor people thought of the Gods whom they worshipped, and the
friends whom they loved, and could not choose but be heavy-hearted when
they thought that the wild-wood was awaiting them to swallow all up, and
take away from them their Gods and their friends and the mirth of their
life, and burden them with hunger and thirst and weariness, that their
children might begin once more to build the House and establish the
dwelling, and call new places by old names, and worship new Gods with the
ancient worship.

Such imaginations of trouble then were in the hearts of the stay-at-homes
of the Wolfings; the tale tells not indeed that all had such forebodings,
but chiefly the old folk who were nursing the end of their life-days
amidst the cherishing Kindred of the House.

But now they were beginning to turn them back again to the habitations,
and a thin stream was flowing through the acres, when they heard a
confused sound drawing near blended of horns and the lowing of beasts and
the shouting of men; and they looked and saw a throng of brightly clad
men coming up stream alongside of Mirkwood-water; and they were not
afraid, for they knew that it must be some other company of the Markmen
journeying to the hosting of the Folk: and presently they saw that it was
the House of the Beamings following their banner on the way to the Thing-
stead. But when the new-comers saw the throng out in the meads, some of