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Thranduil crept through the forest. Pausing by a thicket of
bushes, he peered into the clustering branches to the hollows
beyond. There was nothing there.
He gazed upwards, past the yellowing leaves into the depths of the
trees above him, looking for a green and brown shadow – which was not
there. He paused, thinking. Where to look next? The
stables lay ahead, with lofts, corners, shadows, and stacked bales of
hay.
Passing a drift of autumn leaves, he jumped as the pile exploded
upwards, and a laughing, shouting elfling emerged.
“You found me, Ada! Now it’s your turn to hide!”
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