Tolkien's Fox
#4 of Short Stories
Typed this up about a year ago, though it's still just a draft. I started reading Lord of the Rings again, and found it much easier to understand this time. I was surprised to find there was actually a part in the book where something like this happens, though it's much smaller. Tolkien was focused on the Hobbits, and not the fox.
I realize I risk offending hardcore Tolkien fans with this, but I pray they (and Tolkien) will excuse me. I just thought it'd be interesting to consider things from the fox's point of view, however brief it'd be. 'Course, I may expand it later. Who knows what else was going on while he was still alive?
The fox made his way through the brush and the trees on his nightly hunt and forage. His mate was full with kits and he needed to provide. It was a fair night and he made no sound as he slunk along beneath the stars, alert to any signs of prey or food that he might find. A faint hint of smoke came to him and he paused. Smoke meant fire, a danger to all foxes. He sniffed the air, the scent tickling his nose, yet it did not grow stronger. Travellers then? But he was not that close to the road, that strange, wide path devoid of trees or brush that Hobbits and Men preferred. Then again, it was not a long trip, and he had made forays across it before. Still, something about this struck him as unusual. He crept forward as silent as any fox worth his tail.
What he found astonished him. The fire was long dead, nothing but warm cinders hid beneath the ashes. And there, nestled between the roots of the trees, were three Hobbits.
"Hobbits!" he thought. "What next then? I've heard all the rumors of strange doings in this land, yet Hobbits sleeping out of doors under a tree? And three of them at that! I wonder what business they have to be out like this."
But it was none of his to question, and if he stayed his mate would go hungry, and he'd get a stone in his side for his trouble. Every fox in the shire soon learned not to steal from Hobbits. He'd gotten away with it once or twice when he was very young, but a few well-placed stones soon taught him to keep to the wild. As he passed into the night, he mused that he would probably tell his kits to avoid Hobbits if they could. Yet he had a feeling they wouldn't listen. And then, why should they? He never did.
Now was not the time for musings though. Now was the time for food, for him and for his mate. He went off into the night, never learning who the Hobbits were, nor how dire their mission was. He lived the rest of his life never guessing he passed three heroes of future legend, and that their mission secured the future of all his kind. Not that you can blame him. The wars of Dark Lords and High Elves mean little to a hungry fox and his family.