Chapter 5: A Conspiracy Unmasked

 

 

"Now we had better get home ourselves," said Merry. There's something funny about all this, I see; but it must wait till we get in."

 

They turned down the Ferry lane, which was straight and well-kept and edged with large white-washed stones. In a hundred yards or so it brought them to the river-bank, where there was a broad wooden landing-stage. A large flat ferry-boat was moored beside it. The white bollards near the water's edge glimmered in the light of two lamps on high posts. Behind them the mists in the flat fields were now above the hedges; but the water before them was dark, with only a few curling wisps like steam among the reeds by the bank. There seemed to be less fog on the further side.

 

Merry led the pony over a gangway on to the ferry, and the others followed. Merry then pushed slowly off with a long pole. The Brandywine flowed slow and broad before them. On the other side the bank was steep, and up it a winding path climbed from the further landing. Lamps were twinkling there. Behind loomed up the Buck Hill; and out of it, through stray shrouds of mist, shone many round windows, yellow and red. They were the windows of Brandy Hall, the ancient home of the Brandybucks.

 

Long ago Gorhendad Oldbuck, head of the Oldbuck family, one of the oldest in the Marish or indeed in the Shire, had crossed the river, which was the original boundary of the land eastwards. He built (and excavated) Brandy Hall, changed his name to Brandybuck, and settled down to become master of what was virtually a small independent country. His family grew and grew, and after his days continued to grow, until Brandy Hall occupied the whole of the low hill, and had three large front-doors, many side-doors, and about a hundred windows. The Brandybucks and their numerous dependants then began to burrow, and later to build, all round about. That was the origin of Buckland, a thickly inhabited strip between the river and the Old Forest, a sort of colony from the Shire. Its chief village was Bucklebury, clustering in the banks and slopes behind Brandy Hall.

 

The people in the Marish were friendly with the Bucklanders, and the authority of the Master of the Hall (as the head of the Brandybuck family was called) was still acknowledged by the farmers between Stock and Rushey. But most of the folk of the old Shire regarded the Bucklanders as peculiar, half foreigners as it were. Though, as a matter of fact, they were not very different from the other hobbits of the Four Farthings. Except in one point: they were fond of boats, and some of them could swim.

 

Their land was originally unprotected from the East; but on that side they had built a hedge: the High Hay. It had been planted many generations ago, and was now thick and tail, for it was constantly tended. It ran all the way from Brandywine Bridge, in a big loop curving away from the river, to Haysend (where the Withywindle flowed out of the Forest into the Brandywine): well over twenty miles from end to end. But, of course, it was not a complete protection. The Forest drew close to the hedge in many places. The Bucklanders kept their doors locked after dark, and that also was not usual in the Shire.

 

The ferry-boat moved slowly across the water. The Buckland shore drew nearer. Sam was the only member of the party who had not been over the river before. He had a strange feeling as the slow gurgling stream slipped by: his old life lay behind in the mists, dark adventure lay in front. He scratched his head, and for a moment had a passing wish that Mr. Frodo could have gone on living quietly at Bag End.

 

The four hobbits stepped off the ferry. Merry was tying it up, and Pippin was already leading the pony up the path, when Sam (who had been looking back, as if to take farewell of the Shire) said in a hoarse whisper:

 

"Look back, Mr. Frodo! Do you see anything?"

 

On the far stage, under the distant lamps, they could just make out a figure: it looked like a dark black bundle left behind. But as they looked it seemed to move and sway this way and that, as if searching the ground. It then crawled, or went crouching, back into the gloom beyond the lamps.

 

"What in the Shire is that?" exclaimed Merry.

 

"Something that is following us," said Frodo. "But don't ask any more now! Let's get away at once!" They hurried up the path to the top of the bank, but when they looked back the far shore was shrouded in mist, and nothing could be seen.

 

"Thank goodness you don't keep any boats on the west-bank!" said Frodo. "Can horses cross the river?"

 

"They can go twenty miles north to Brandywine Bridge - or they might swim," answered Merry. "Though I never heard of any horse swimming the Brandywine. But what have horses to do with it?" I'll tell you later. Let's get indoors and then we can talk."

 

"All right! You and Pippin know your way; so I'll just ride on and tell Fatty Bolger that you are coming. We'll see about supper and things."

 

"We had our supper early with Farmer Maggot," said Frodo; 'but we could do with another."

 

"You shall have it! Give me that basket!" said Merry, and rode ahead into the darkness.

 

It was some distance from the Brandywine to Frodo's new house at Crickhollow. They passed Buck Hill and Brandy Hall on their left, and on the outskirts of Bucklebury struck the main road of Buckland that ran south from the Bridge. Half a mile northward along this they came to a lane opening on their right. This they followed for a couple of miles as it climbed up and down into the country.

 

At last they came to a narrow gate in a thick hedge. Nothing could be seen of the house in the dark: it stood back from the lane in the middle of a wide circle of lawn surrounded by a belt of low trees inside the outer hedge. Frodo had chosen it, because it stood in an out-of-the-way corner of the country, and there were no other dwellings close by. You could get in and out without being noticed. It had been built a long while before by the Brandybucks, for the use of guests, or members of the family that wished to escape from the crowded life of Brandy Hall for a time. It was an old-fashioned countrified house, as much like a hobbit-hole as possible: it was long and low, with no upper storey; and it had a roof of turf, round windows, and a large round door.

 

As they walked lip the green path from the gate no light was visible; the windows were dark and shuttered. Frodo knocked on the door, and Fatty Bolger opened it. A friendly light streamed out. They slipped in quickly and shut themselves and the light inside. They were in a wide hall with doors on either side; in front of them a passage ran back down the middle of the house.

 

"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Merry coming up the passage. "We have done our best in a short time to make it look like home. After all Fatty and I only got here with the last cart-load yesterday."

 

Frodo looked round. It did look like home. Many of his own favourite things - or Bilbo's things (they reminded him sharply of him in their new selling) - were arranged as nearly as possible as they had been at Bag End. It was a pleasant, comfortable, welcoming place; and he found himself wishing that he was really coming here to settle down in quiet retirement. It seemed unfair to have put his friends to all this trouble; and he wondered again how he was going to break the news to them that he must leave them so soon, indeed at once. Yet that would have to be done that very night, before they all went to bed.

 

"It's delightful!" he said with an effort. "I hardly feel that I have moved at all."

 

The travellers hung up their cloaks, and piled their packs on the floor. Merry led them down the passage and threw open a door at the far end. Firelight came out, and a puff of steam.

 

"A bath!" cried Pippin. "O blessed Meriadoc!"

 

"Which order shall we go in?" said Frodo. "Eldest first, or quickest first? You'll be last either way, Master Peregrin."

 

"Trust me to arrange things better than that!" said Merry. "We can't begin life at Crickhollow with a quarrel over baths. In that room there arethree tubs, and a copper full of boiling water. There are also towels, mats and soap. Get inside, and be quick!"

 

Merry and Fatty went into the kitchen on the other side of the passage, and busied themselves with the final preparations for a late supper. Snatches of competing songs came from the bathroom mixed with the sound of splashing and wallowing. The voice of Pippin was suddenly lifted up above the others in one of Bilbo's favourite bath-songs.

 

Sing hey! for the bath at close of day

 

that washes the weary mud away!

 

A loon is he that will not sing:

 

O! Water Hot is a noble thing!

 

O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,

 

and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;

 

but better than rain or rippling streams

 

is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

 

O! Water cold we may pour at need

 

down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;

 

but better is Beer, if drink we lack,

 

and Water Hot poured down the back.

 

O! Water is fair that leaps on high

 

in a fountain white beneath the sky;

 

but never did fountain sound so sweet

 

as splashing Hot Water with my feet!

 

 

There was a terrific splash, and a shout ofWhoa! from Frodo. It appeared that a lot of Pippin's bath had imitated a fountain and leaped on high.

 

Merry went to the door: "What about supper and beer in the throat?" he called. Frodo came out drying his hair.

 

"There's so much water in the air that I'm coming into the kitchen to finish," he said.

 

"Lawks!" said Merry, looking in. The stone floor was swimming. "You ought to mop all that up before you get anything to eat. Peregrin," he said. "Hurry up, or we shan't wait for you."

 

They had supper in the kitchen on a table near the fire. "I suppose you three won't want mushrooms again?" said Fredegar without much hope.

 

"Yes we shall!" cried Pippin.

 

"They're mine!" said Frodo. "Given tome by Mrs. Maggot, a queen among farmers' wives. Take your greedy hands away, and I'll serve them."

 

Hobbits have a passion for mushrooms, surpassing even the greediest likings of Big People. A fact which partly explains young Frodo's long expeditions to the renowned fields of the Marish, and the wrath of the injured Maggot. On this occasion there was plenty for all, even according to hobbit standards. There were also many other things to follow, and when they had finished even Fatty Bolger heaved a sigh of content. They pushed back the table, and drew chairs round the fire.

 

"We'll clear up later," said Merry. "Now tell me all about it! I guess that you have been having adventures, which was not quite fair without me. I want a full account; and most of all I want to know what was the matter with old Maggot, and why he spoke to me like that. He sounded almost as if he wasscared, if that is possible."

 

"We have all been scared," said Pippin after a pause, in which Frodo stared at the fire and did not speak. "You would have been, too, if you had been chased for two days by Black Riders."

 

"And what are they?"

 

"Black figures riding on black horses," answered Pippin. "If Frodo won't talk, I will tell you the whole tale from the beginning." He then gave a full account of their journey from the time when they left Hobbiton. Sam gave various supporting nods and exclamations. Frodo remained silent.

 

"I should think you were making it all up," said Merry, 'if I had not seen that black shape on the landing-stage - and heard the queer sound in Maggot's voice. What do you make of it all, Frodo?"

 

"Cousin Frodo has been very close," said Pippin. "But the time has come for him to open out. So far we have been given nothing more to go on than Farmer Maggot's guess that it has something to do with old Bilbo's treasure."

 

"That was only a guess," said Frodo hastily. "Maggot does notknow anything."

 

"Old Maggot is a shrewd fellow," said Merry. "A lot goes on behind his round face that does not come out in his talk. I've heard that he used to go into the Old Forest at one time, and he has the reputation of knowing a good many strange things. But you can at least tell us, Frodo, whether you think his guess good or bad."

 

"Ithink," answered Frodo slowly, 'that it was a good guess, as far as it goes. Thereis a connexion with Bilbo's old adventures, and the Riders are looking, or perhaps one ought to saysearching, for him or for me. I also fear, if you want to know, that it is no joke at all; and that I am not safe here or anywhere else." He looked round at the windows and walls, as if he was afraid they would suddenly give way. The others looked at him in silence, and exchanged meaning glances among themselves.

 

"It's coming out in a minute," whispered Pippin to Merry. Merry nodded.

 

"Well!" said Frodo at last, sitting up and straightening his back, as if he had made a decision. "I can't keep it dark any longer. I have got something to tell you all. But I don't know quite how to begin."

 

"I think I could help you," said Merry quietly, 'by telling you some of it myself."

 

"What do you mean?" said Frodo, looking at him anxiously. "Just this, my dear old Frodo: you are miserable, because you don't know how to say good-bye. You meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come on you sooner than you expected, and now you are making up your mind to go at once. And you don't want to. We are very sorry for you."

 

Frodo opened his mouth and shut it again. His look of surprise was so comical that they laughed. "Dear old Frodo!" said Pippin. "Did you really think you had thrown dust in all our eyes? You have not been nearly careful or clever enough for that! You have obviously been planning to go and saying farewell to all your haunts all this year since April. We have constantly heard you muttering: "Shall I ever look down into that valley again, I wonder", and things like that. And pretending that you had come to the end of your money, and actually selling your beloved Bag End to those Sackville-Bagginses! And all those close talks with Gandalf."

 

"Good heavens!" said Frodo. "I thought I had been both careful and clever. I don't know what Gandalf would say. Is all the Shire discussing my departure then?"

 

"Oh no!" said Merry. "Don't worry about that! The secret won't keep for long, of course; but at present it is, I think, only known to us conspirators. After all, you must remember that we know you well, and are often with you. We can usually guess what you are thinking. I knew Bilbo, too. To tell you the truth, I had been watching you rather closely ever since he left. I thought you would go after him sooner or later; indeed I expected you to go sooner, and lately we have been very anxious. We have been terrified that you might give us the slip, and go off suddenly, all on your own like he did. Ever since this spring we have kept our eyes open, and done a good deal of planning on our own account. You are not going to escape so easily!"

 

"But I must go," said Frodo. "It cannot be helped, dear friends. It is wretched for us all, but it is no use your trying to keep me. Since you have guessed so much, please help me and do not hinder me!"

 

"You do not understand!" said Pippin. "You must go - and therefore we must, too. Merry and I are coming with you. Sam is an excellent fellow, and would jump down a dragon's throat to save you, if he did not trip over his own feet; but you will need more than one companion in your dangerous adventure."

 

"My dear and most beloved hobbits!" said Frodo deeply moved. "But I could not allow it. I decided that long ago, too. You speak of danger, but you do not understand. This is no treasure-hunt, no there-and-back journey. I am flying from deadly peril into deadly peril."

 

"Of course we understand," said Merry firmly. "That is why we have decided to come. We know the Ring is no laughing-matter; but we are going to do our best to help you against the Enemy."

 

"The Ring!" said Frodo, now completely amazed.

 

"Yes, the Ring," said Merry. "My dear old hobbit, you don't allow for the inquisitiveness of friends. I have known about the existence of the Ring for years - before Bilbo went away, in fact; but since he obviously regarded it as secret, I kept the knowledge in my head, until we formed our conspiracy. I did not know Bilbo, of course, as well as I know you; I was too young, and he was also more careful - but he was not careful enough. If you want to know how I first found out, I will tell you."

 

"Go on!" said Frodo faintly.

 

"It was the Sackville-Bagginses that were his downfall, as you might expect. One day, a year before the Party, I happened to be walking along the road, when I saw Bilbo ahead. Suddenly in the distance the S.-B.s appeared, coming towards us. Bilbo slowed down, and then hey presto! he vanished. I was so startled that I hardly had the wits to hide myself in a more ordinary fashion; but I got through the hedge and walked along the field inside. I was peeping through into the road, after the S.-B.s had passed, and was looking straight at Bilbo when he suddenly reappeared. I caught a glint of gold as he put something back in his trouser-pocket.

 

"After that I kept my eyes open. In fact, I confess that I spied. But you must admit that it was very intriguing, and I was only in my teens. I must be the only one in the Shire, besides you Frodo, that has ever seen the old fellow's secret book."

 

"You have read his book!" cried Frodo. "Good heavens above! Is nothing safe?"

 

"Not too safe, I should say," said Merry. "But I have only had one rapid glance, and that was difficult to get. He never left the book about. I wonder what became of it. I should like another look. Have you got it, Frodo?"

 

"No. It was not at Bag End. He must have taken it away."

 

"Well, as I was saying," Merry proceeded, "I kept my knowledge to myself, till this Spring when things got serious. Then we formed our conspiracy; and as we were serious, too, and meant business, we have not been too scrupulous. You are not a very easy nut to crack, and Gandalf is worse. But if you want to be introduced to our chief investigator, I can produce him."

 

"Where is he?" said Frodo, looking round, as if he expected a masked and sinister figure to come out of a cupboard.

 

"Step forward, Sam!" said Merry; and Sam stood up with a face scarlet up to the ears. "Here's our collector of information! And he collected a lot, I can tell you, before he was finally caught. After which, I may say, he seemed to regard himself as on parole, and dried up."

 

"Sam!" cried Frodo, feeling that amazement could go no further, and quite unable to decide whether he felt angry, amused, relieved, or merely foolish.

 

"Yes, sir!" said Sam. "Begging your pardon, sir! But I meant no wrong to you, Mr. Frodo, nor to Mr. Gandalf for that matter.He has some sense, mind you; and when you saidgo alone, he saidno! lake someone as you can trust."

 

"But it does not seem that I can trust anyone," said Frodo. Sam looked at him unhappily. "It all depends on what you want," put in Merry. "You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin - to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours - closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the Ring. We are horribly afraid - but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds."

 

"And after all, sir," added Sam, 'you did ought to take the Elves' advice. Gildor said you should take them as was willing, and you can't deny it."

 

"I don't deny it," said Frodo, looking at Sam, who was now grinning. "I don't deny it, but I'll never believe you are sleeping again, whether you snore or not. I shall kick you hard to make sure.

 

"You are a set of deceitful scoundrels!" he said, turning to the others. "But bless you!" he laughed, getting up and waving his arms, "I give in. I will take Gildor's advice. If the danger were not so dark, I should dance for joy. Even so, I cannot help feeling happy; happier than I have felt for a long time. I had dreaded this evening."

 

"Good! That's settled. Three cheers for Captain Frodo and company!" they shouted; and they danced round him. Merry and Pippin began a song, which they had apparently got ready for the occasion.

 

It was made on the model of the dwarf-song that started Bilbo on his adventure long ago, and went to the same tune:

 

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!

 

Though wind may blow and rain may fall,

 

We must away ere break of day

 

Far over wood and mountain tall.

 

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell

 

In glades beneath the misty fell,

 

Through moor and waste we ride in haste,

 

And whither then we cannot tell.

 

With foes ahead, behind us dread,

 

Beneath the sky shall be our bed,

 

Until at last our toil be passed,

 

Our journey done, our errand sped.

 

 

We must away! We must away!

 

We ride before the break of day!

 

 

"Very good!" said Frodo. "But in that case there are a lot of things to do before we go to bed - under a roof, for tonight at any rate."

 

"Oh! That was poetry!" said Pippin. "Do you really mean to start before the break of day?"

 

"I don't know," answered Frodo. "I fear those Black Riders, and I am sure it is unsafe to stay in one place long, especially in a place to which it is known I was going. Also Gildor advised me not to wait. But I should very much like to see Gandalf. I could see that even Gildor was disturbed when he heard that Gandalf had never appeared. It really depends on two things. How soon could the Riders get to Bucklebury? And how soon could we get off? It will take a good deal of preparation."

 

"The answer to the second question," said Merry, 'is that we could get off in an hour. I have prepared practically everything. There are six ponies in a stable across the fields; stores and tackle are all packed, except for a few extra clothes, and the perishable food."

 

"It seems to have been a very efficient conspiracy," said Frodo. "But what about the Black Riders? Would it be safe to wait one day for Gandalf?"

 

"That all depends on what you think the Riders would do, if they found you here," answered Merry. "Theycould have reached here by now, of course, if they were not stopped at the North-gate, where the Hedge runs down to the river-bank, just this side of the Bridge. The gate-guards would not let them through by night, though they might break through. Even in the daylight they would try to keep them out, I think, at any rate until they got a message through to the Master of the Hall - for they would not like the look of the Riders, and would certainly be frightened by them. But, of course, Buckland cannot resist a determined attack for long. And it is possible that in the morning even a Black Rider that rode up and asked for Mr. Baggins would be let through. It is pretty generally known that you are coming back to live at Crickhollow."

 

Frodo sat for a while in thought. "I have made up my mind," he said finally. "I am starting tomorrow, as soon as it is light. But I am not going by road: it would be safer to wait here than that. If I go through the North-gate my departure from Buckland will be known at once, instead of being secret for several days at least, as it might be. And what is more, the Bridge and the East Road near the borders will certainly be watched, whether any Rider gets into Buckland or not. We don't know how many there are; but there are at least two, and possibly more. The only thing to do is to go off in a quite unexpected direction."

 

"But that can only mean going into the Old Forest!" said Fredegar horrified. "You can't be thinking of doing that. It is quite as dangerous as Black Riders."

 

"Not quite," said Merry. It sounds very desperate, but I believe Frodo is right. It is the only way of getting off without being followed at once. With luck we might gel a considerable start."

 

"But you won't have any luck in the Old Forest," objected Fredegar. "No one ever has luck in there. You'll gel lost. People don't go in there."

 

"Oh yes they do!" said Merry. "The Brandybucks go in - occasionally when the fit takes them. We have a private entrance. Frodo went in once, long ago. I have been in several times: usually in daylight, of course, when the trees are sleepy and fairly quiet."

 

"Well, do as you think best!" said Fredegar. "I am more afraid of the Old Forest than of anything I know about: the stories about it are a nightmare; but my vote hardly counts, as I am not going on the journey. Still, I am very glad someone is stopping behind, who can tell Gandalf what you have done, when he turns up, as I am sure he will before long."

 

Fond as he was of Frodo, Fatty Bolger had no desire to leave the Shire, nor to see what lay outside it. His family came from the Eastfarthing, from Budgeford in Bridgefields in fact, but he had never been over the Brandywine Bridge. His task, according to the original plans of the conspirators, was to stay behind and deal with inquisitive folk, and to keep up as long as possible the pretence that Mr. Baggins was still living at Crickhollow. He had even brought along some old clothes of Frodo's to help him in playing the part. They little thought how dangerous that part might prove.

 

"Excellent!" said Frodo, when he understood the plan. "We could not have left any message behind for Gandalf otherwise. I don't know whether these Riders can read or not, of course, but I should not have dared to risk a written message, in case they got in and searched the house. But if Fatty is willing to hold the fort, and I can be sure of Gandalf knowing the way we have gone, that decides me. I am going into the Old Forest first thing tomorrow."

 

"Well, that's that," said Pippin. "On the whole I would rather have our job than Fatty's - waiting here till Black Riders come."

 

"You wait till you are well inside the Forest," said Fredegar. "You'll wish you were back here with me before this time tomorrow."

 

"It's no good arguing about it any more," said Merry. "We have still got to tidy up and put the finishing touches to the packing, before we get to bed. I shall call you all before the break of day."

 

When at last he had got to bed, Frodo could not sleep for some time. His legs ached. He. was glad that he was riding in the morning. Eventually he fell into a vague dream, in which he seemed to be looking out of a high window over a dark sea of tangled trees. Down below among the roots there was the sound of creatures crawling and snuffling. He felt sure they would smell him out sooner or later.

 

Then he heard a noise in the distance. At first he thought it was a great wind coming over the leaves of the forest. Then he knew that it was not leaves, but the sound of the Sea far-off; a sound he had never heard in waking life, though it had often troubled his dreams. Suddenly he found he was out in the open. There were no trees after all. He was on a dark heath, and there was a strange salt smell in the air. Looking up he saw before him a tall white tower, standing alone on a high ridge. A great desire came over him to climb the tower and see the Sea. He started to struggle up the ridge towards the tower: but suddenly a light came in the sky, and there was a noise of thunder.

 

Chapter 6: The Old Forest

 

 

Frodo woke suddenly. It was still dark in the room. Merry was standing there with a candle in one hand, and banging on the door with the other. "All right! What is it?" said Frodo, still shaken and bewildered.

 

"What is it!" cried Merry. "It is time to get up. It is half past four and very foggy. Come on! Sam is already getting breakfast ready. Even Pippin is up. I am just going to saddle the ponies, and fetch the one that is to be the baggage-carrier. Wake that sluggard Fatty! At least he must get up and see us off."

 

Soon after six o'clock the five hobbits were ready to start. Fatty Bolger was still yawning. They stole quietly out of the house. Merry went in front leading a laden pony, and took his way along a path that went through a spinney behind the house, and then cut across several fields. The leaves of trees were glistening, and every twig was dripping; the grass was grey with cold dew. Everything was still, and far-away noises seemed near and clear: fowls chattering in a yard, someone closing a door of a distant house.

 

In their shed they found the ponies; sturdy little beasts of the kind loved by hobbits, not speedy, but good for a long day's work. They mounted, and soon they were riding off into the mist, which seemed to open reluctantly before them and close forbiddingly behind them. After riding for about an hour, slowly and without talking, they saw the Hedge looming suddenly ahead. It was tall and netted over with silver cobwebs. "How are you going to get through this?" asked Fredegar. "Follow me!" said Merry, 'and you will see." He turned to the left along the Hedge, and soon they came to a point where it bent inwards, running along the lip of a hollow. A cutting had been made, at some distance from the Hedge, and went sloping gently down into the ground. It had walls of brick at the sides, which rose steadily, until suddenly they arched over and formed a tunnel that dived deep under the Hedge and came out in the hollow on the other side.

 

Here Fatty Bolger halted. "Good-bye, Frodo!" he said. "I wish you were not going into the Forest. I only hope you will not need rescuing before the day is out. But good luck to you - today and every day!"

 

"If there are no worse things ahead than the Old Forest, I shall be lucky," said Frodo. "Tell Gandalf to hurry along the East Road: we shall soon be back on it and going as fast as we can." "Good-bye!" they cried, and rode down the slope and disappeared from Fredegar's sight into the tunnel.

 

It was dark and damp. At the far end it was closed by a gate of thick-set iron bars. Merry got down and unlocked the gate, and when they had all passed through he pushed it to again. It shut with a clang, and the lock clicked. The sound was ominous.

 

"There!" said Merry. "You have left the Shire, and are now outside, and on the edge of the Old Forest."

 

"Are the stories about it true?" asked Pippin.

 

"I don't know what stories you mean," Merry answered. "If you mean the old bogey-stories Fatty's nurses used to tell him, about goblins and wolves and things of that sort, I should say no. At any rate I don't believe them. But the Forestis queer. Everything in it is very much more alive, more aware of what is going on, so to speak, than things are in the Shire. And the trees do not like strangers. They watch you. They are usually content merely to watch you, as long as daylight lasts, and don't do much. Occasionally the most unfriendly ones may drop a branch, or stick a root out, or grasp at you with a long trailer. But at night things can be most alarming, or so I am told. I have only once or twice been in here after dark, and then only near the hedge. I thought all the trees were whispering to each other, passing news and plots along in an unintelligible language; and the branches swayed and groped without any wind. They do say the trees do actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them in. In fact long ago they attacked the Hedge: they came and planted themselves right by it, and leaned over it. But the hobbits came and cut down hundreds of trees, and made a great bonfire in the Forest, and burned all the ground in a long strip east of the Hedge. After that the trees gave up the attack, but they became very unfriendly. There is still a wide bare space not far inside where the bonfire was made."

 

"Is it only the trees that are dangerous?" asked Pippin.

 

"There are various queer things living deep in the Forest, and on the far side," said Merry, 'or at least I have heard so; but I have never seen any of them. But something makes paths. Whenever one comes inside one finds open tracks; but they seem to shift and change from time to time in a queer fashion. Not far from this tunnel there is, or was for a long time, the beginning of quite a broad path leading to the Bonfire Glade, and then on more or less in our direction, east and a little north. That is the path I am going to try and find."

 

The hobbits now left the tunnel-gate and rode across the wide hollow. On the far side was a faint path leading up on to the floor of the Forest, a hundred yards and more beyond the Hedge; but it vanished as soon as it brought them under the trees. Looking back they could see the dark line of the Hedge through the stems of trees that were already thick about them. Looking ahead they could see only tree-trunks of innumerable sizes and shapes: straight or bent, twisted, leaning, squat or slender, smooth or gnarled and branched; and all the stems were green or grey with moss and slimy, shaggy growths.

 

Merry alone seemed fairly cheerful. "You had better lead on and find that path," Frodo said to him. "Don't let us lose one another, or forget which way the Hedge lies!"

 

They picked a way among the trees, and their ponies plodded along, carefully avoiding the many writhing and interlacing roots. There was no undergrowth. The ground was rising steadily, and as they went forward it seemed that the trees became taller, darker, and thicker. There was no sound, except an occasional drip of moisture falling through the still leaves. For the moment there was no whispering or movement among the branches; but they all got an uncomfortable feeling that they were being watched with disapproval, deepening to dislike and even enmity. The feeling steadily grew, until they found themselves looking up quickly, or glancing back over their shoulders, as if they expected a sudden blow.

 

There was not as yet any sign of a path, and the trees seemed constantly to bar their way. Pippin suddenly felt that he could not bear it any longer, and without warning let out a shout. "Oi! Oi!" he cried. "I am not going to do anything. Just let me pass through, will you!"

 

The others halted startled; but the cry fell as if muffled by a heavy curtain. There was no echo or answer though the wood seemed to become more crowded and more watchful than before.

 

"I should not shout, if I were you," said Merry. It does more harm than good."

 

Frodo began to wonder if it were possible to find a way through, and if he had been right to make the others come into this abominable wood. Merry was looking from side to side, and seemed already uncertain which way to go. Pippin noticed it. "It has not taken you long to lose us," he said. But at that moment Merry gave a whistle of relief and pointed ahead.

 

"Well, well!" he said. "These treesdo shift. There is the Bonfire Glade in front of us (or I hope so), but the path to it seems to have moved away!"

 

The light grew clearer as they went forward. Suddenly they came out of the trees and found themselves in a wide circular space. There was sky above them, blue and clear to their surprise, for down under the Forest-roof they had not been able to see the rising morning and the lifting of the mist. The sun was not, however, high enough yet to shine down into the clearing, though its light was on the tree-tops. The leaves were all thicker and greener about the edges of the glade, enclosing it with an almost solid wall. No tree grew there, only rough grass and many tall plants: stalky and faded hemlocks and wood-parsley, fire-weed seeding into fluffy ashes, and rampant nettles and thistles. A dreary place: but it seemed a charming and cheerful garden after the close Forest.

 

The hobbits felt encouraged, and looked up hopefully at the broadening daylight in the sky. At the far side of the glade there was a break in the wall of trees, and a clear path beyond it. They could see it running on into the wood, wide in places and open above, though every now and again the trees drew in and overshadowed it with their dark boughs. Up this path they rode. They were still climbing gently, but they now went much quicker, and with better heart; for it seemed to them that the Forest had relented, and was going to let them pass unhindered after all.

 

But after a while the air began to get hot and stuffy. The trees drew close again on either side, and they could no longer see far ahead. Now stronger than ever they felt again the ill will of the wood pressing on them. So silent was it that the fall of their ponies' hoofs, rustling on dead leaves and occasionally stumbling on hidden roots, seemed to thud in their ears. Frodo tried to sing a song to encourage them, but his voice sank to a murmur.

 

O! Wanderers in the shadowed land

 

despair not! For though dark they stand,

 

all woods there be must end at last,

 

and see the open sun go past:

 

the setting sun, the rising sun,

 

the day's end, or the day begun.

 

For east or west all woods must fail ...

 

 

Fail -even as he said the word his voice faded into silence. The air seemed heavy and the making of words wearisome. Just behind them a large branch fell from an old overhanging tree with a crash into the path. The trees seemed to close in before them.

 

"They do not like all that about ending and failing," said Merry. "I should not sing any more at present. Wait till we do get to the edge, and then we'll turn and give them a rousing chorus!"

 

He spoke cheerfully, and if he felt any great anxiety, he did not show it. The others did not answer. They were depressed. A heavy weight was settling steadily on Frodo's heart, and he regretted now with every step forward that he had ever thought of challenging the menace of the trees. He was, indeed, just about to stop and propose going back (if that was still possible), when things took a new turn. The path stopped climbing, and became for a while nearly level. The dark trees drew aside, and ahead they could see the path going almost straight forward. Before them, but some distance off, there stood a green hill-top, treeless, rising like a bald head out of the encircling wood. The path seemed to be making directly for it.

 

They now hurried forward again, delighted with the thought of climbing out for a while above the roof of the Forest. The path dipped, and then again began to climb upwards, leading them at last to the foot of the steep hillside. There it left the trees and faded into the turf. The wood stood all round the hill like thick hair that ended sharply in a circle round a shaven crown.

 

The hobbits led their ponies up, winding round and round until they reached the top. There they stood and gazed about them. The air was gleaming and sunlit, but hazy; and they could not see to any great distance. Near at hand the mist was now almost gone; though here and there it lay in hollows of the wood, and to the south of them, out of a deep fold cutting right across the Forest, the fog still rose like steam or wisps of white smoke.

 

"That," said Merry, pointing with his hand, 'that is the line of the Withywindle. It comes down out of the Downs and flows south-west through the midst of the Forest to join the Brandywine below Haysend. We don't want to gothat way! The Withywindle valley is said to be the queerest part of the whole wood - the centre from which all the queerness comes, as it were."

 

The others looked in the direction that Merry pointed out, but they could see little but mists over the damp and deep-cut valley; and beyond it the southern half of the Forest faded from view.

 

The sun on the hill-lop was now getting hot. It must have been about eleven o'clock; but the autumn haze still prevented them from seeing much in other directions. In the west they could not make out either the line of the Hedge or the valley of the Brandywine beyond it. Northward, where they looked most hopefully, they could see nothing that might be the line of the great East Road, for which they were making. They were on an island in a sea of trees, and the horizon was veiled.

 

On the south-eastern side the ground fell very steeply, as if the slopes of the hill were continued far down under the trees, like island-shores that really are the sides of a mountain rising out of deep waters. They sat on the green edge and looked out over the woods below them, while they ate their mid-day meal. As the sun rose and passed noon they glimpsed far off in the east the grey-green lines of the Downs that lay beyond the Old Forest on that side. That cheered them greatly; for it was good to see a sight of anything beyond the wood's borders, though they did not mean to go that way, if they could help it: the Barrow-downs had as sinister a reputation in hobbit-legend as the Forest itself.

 

At length they made up their minds to go on again. The path that had brought them to the hill reappeared on the northward side; but they had not followed it far before they became aware that it was bending steadily to the right. Soon it began to descend rapidly and they guessed that it must actually be heading towards the Withywindle valley: not at all the direction they wished lo take. After some discussion they decided to leave this misleading path and strike northward; for although they had not been able to see it from the hill-top, the Road must lie that way, and it could not be many miles off. Also northward, and to the left of the path, the land seemed lo be drier and more open, climbing up to slopes where the trees were thinner, and pines and firs replaced the oaks and ashes and other strange and nameless trees of the denser wood.

 

At first their choice seemed to be good: they got along at a fair speed, though whenever they got a glimpse of the sun in an open glade they seemed unaccountably to have veered eastwards. But after a time the trees began to close in again, just where they had appeared from a distance to be thinner and less tangled. Then deep folds in the ground were discovered unexpectedly, like the ruts of great giant-wheels or wide moats and sunken roads long disused and choked with brambles. These lay usually right across their line of march, and could only be crossed by scrambling down and out again, which was troublesome and difficult with their ponies. Each time they climbed down they found the hollow filled with thick bushes and matted undergrowth, which somehow would not yield to the left, but only gave way when they turned to the right; and they had to go some distance along the bottom before they could find a way up the further bank. Each time they clambered out, the trees seemed deeper and darker; and always to the left and upwards it was most difficult to find a way, and they were forced to the right and downwards.

 

After an hour or two they had lost all clear sense of direction, though they knew well enough that they had long ceased to go northward at all. They were being headed off, and were simply following a course chosen for them - eastwards and southwards, into the heart of the Forest and not out of it.

 

The afternoon was wearing away when they scrambled and stumbled into a fold that was wider and deeper than any they had yet met. It was so sleep and overhung that it proved impossible to climb out of it again, either forwards or backwards, without leaving their ponies and their baggage behind. All they could do was to follow the fold - downwards. The ground grew soft, and in places boggy; springs appeared in the banks, and soon they found themselves following a brook that trickled and babbled through a weedy bed. Then the ground began to fall rapidly, and the brook growing strong and noisy, flowed and leaped swiftly downhill. They were in a deep dim-lit gully over-arched by trees high above them.

 

After stumbling along for some way along the stream, they came quite suddenly out of the gloom. As if through a gate they saw the sunlight before them. Coming to the opening they found that they had made their way down through a cleft in a high sleep bank, almost a cliff. At its feet was a wide space of grass and reeds; and in the distance could be glimpsed another bank almost as steep. A golden afternoon of late sunshine lay warm and drowsy upon the hidden land between. In the midst of it there wound lazily a dark river of brown water, bordered with ancient willows, arched over with willows, blocked with fallen willows, and flecked with thousands of faded willow-leaves. The air was thick with them, fluttering yellow from the branches; for there was a warm and gentle breeze blowing softly in the valley, and the reeds were rustling, and the willow-boughs were creaking.

 

"Well, now I have at least some notion of where we are!" said Merry. "We have come almost in the opposite direction to which we intended. This is the River Withywindle! I will go on and explore."

 

He passed out into the sunshine and disappeared into the long grasses. After a while he reappeared, and reported that there was fairly solid ground between the cliff-foot and the river; in some places firm turf went down to the water's edge. "What's more," he said, 'there seems to be something like a footpath winding along on this side of the river. If we turn left and follow it, we shall be bound to come out on the east side of the Forest eventually."

 

"I dare say!" said Pippin. "That is, if the track goes on so far, and does not simply lead us into a bog and leave us there. Who made the track, do you suppose, and why? I am sure it was not for our benefit. I am getting very suspicious of this Forest and everything in it, and I begin to believe all the stories about it. And have you any idea how far eastward we should have to go?"

 

"No," said Merry, "I haven't. I don't know in the least how far down the Withywindle we are, or who could possibly come here often enough to make a path along it. But there is no other way out that I can see or think of."

 

There being nothing else for it, they filed out, and Merry led them to the path that he had discovered. Everywhere the reeds and grasses were lush and tall, in places far above their heads; but once found, the path was easy to follow, as it turned and twisted, picking out the sounder ground among the bogs and pools. Here and there it passed over other rills, running down gullies into the Withywindle out of the higher forest-lands, and at these points there were tree-trunks or bundles of brushwood laid carefully across.

 

The hobbits began to feel very hot. There were armies of flies of all kinds buzzing round their ears, and the afternoon sun was burning on their backs. At last they came suddenly into a thin shade; great grey branches reached across the path. Each step forward became more reluctant than the last. Sleepiness seemed to be creeping out of the ground and up their legs, and falling softly out of the air upon their heads and eyes.

 

Frodo felt his chin go down and his head nod. Just in front of him Pippin fell forward on to his knees. Frodo halted. "It's no good," he heard Merry saying. "Can't go another step without rest. Must have nap. It's cool under the willows. Less flies!"

 

Frodo did not like the sound of this. "Come on!" he cried. "We can't have a nap yet. We must get clear of the Forest first." But the others were too far gone to care. Beside them Sam stood yawning and blinking stupidly.

 

Suddenly Frodo himself felt sleep overwhelming him. His head swam. There now seemed hardly a sound in the air. The flies had stopped buzzing. Only a gentle noise on the edge of hearing, a soft fluttering as of a song half whispered, seemed to stir in the boughs above. He lifted his heavy eyes and saw leaning over him a huge willow-tree, old and hoary. Enormous it looked, its sprawling branches going up like reaching arms with many long-fingered hands, its knotted and twisted trunk gaping in wide fissures that creaked faintly as the boughs moved. The leaves fluttering against the bright sky dazzled him, and he toppled over, lying where he fell upon the grass.

 

Merry and Pippin dragged themselves forward and lay down with their backs to the willow-trunk. Behind them the great cracks gaped wide to receive them as the tree swayed and creaked. They looked up at the grey and yellow leaves, moving softly against the light, and singing. They shut their eyes, and then it seemed that they could almost hear words, cool words, saying something about water and sleep. They gave themselves up to the spell and fell fast asleep at the foot of the great grey willow.

 

Frodo lay for a while fighting with the sleep that was overpowering him; then with an effort he struggled to his feel again. He felt a compelling desire for cool water. "Wait for me, Sam," he stammered. "Must bathe feet a minute."

 

Half in a dream he wandered forward to the riverward side of the tree, where great winding roots grew out into the stream, like gnarled dragonets straining down to drink. He straddled one of these, and paddled his hot feel in the cool brown water; and there he too suddenly fell asleep with his back against the tree.

 

Sam sat down and scratched his head, and yawned like a cavern. He was worried. The afternoon was getting late, and he thought this sudden sleepiness uncanny. "There's more behind this than sun and warm air," he muttered to himself. "I don't like this great big tree. I don't trust it. Hark at it singing about sleep now! This won't do at all!"

 

He pulled himself to his feet, and staggered off to see what had become of the ponies. He found that two had wandered on a good way along the path; and he had just caught them and brought them back towards the others, when he heard two noises; one loud, and the other soft but very clear. One was the splash of something heavy falling into the water; the other was a noise like the snick of a lock when a door quietly closes fast.

 

He rushed back to the bank. Frodo was in the water close to the edge, and a great tree-root seemed to be over him and holding him down, but he was not struggling. Sam gripped him by the jacket, and dragged him from under the root; and then with difficulty hauled him on to the bank. Almost at once he woke, and coughed and spluttered.

 

"Do you know, Sam," he said at length, 'the beastly treethrew me in! I felt it. The big root just twisted round and tipped me in!"

 

"You were dreaming I expect, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "You shouldn't sit in such a place, if you feel sleepy."

 

"What about the others?" Frodo asked. "I wonder what sort of dreams they are having."

 

They went round to the other side of the tree, and then Sam understood the click that he had heard. Pippin had vanished. The crack by which he had laid himself had closed together, so that not a chink could be seen. Merry was trapped: another crack had closed about his waist; his legs lay outside, but the rest of him was inside a dark opening, the edges of which gripped like a pair of pincers.

 

Frodo and Sam beat first upon the tree-trunk where Pippin had lain. They then struggled frantically to pull open the jaws of the crack that held poor Merry. It was quite useless.

 

"What a foul thing to happen!" cried Frodo wildly. "Why did we ever come into this dreadful Forest? I wish we were all back at Crickhollow!" He kicked the tree with all his strength, heedless of his own feet. A hardly perceptible shiver ran through the stem and up into the branches; the leaves rustled and whispered, but with a sound now of faint and far-off laughter.

 

"I suppose we haven't got an axe among our luggage, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam.

 

"I brought a little hatchet for chopping firewood," said Frodo. "That wouldn't be much use."

 

"Wait a minute!" cried Sam, struck by an idea suggested by firewood. "We might do something with fire!"

 

"We might," said Frodo doubtfully. "We might succeed in roasting Pippin alive inside."

 

"We might try to hurt or frighten this tree to begin with," said Sam fiercely. "If it don't let them go, I'll have it down, if I have to gnaw it." He ran to the ponies and before long came back with two tinder-boxes and a hatchet.

 

Quickly they gathered dry grass and leaves, and bits of bark; and made a pile of broken twigs and chopped sticks. These they heaped against the trunk on the far side of the tree from the prisoners. As soon as Sam had struck a spark into the tinder, it kindled the dry grass and a flurry of flame and smoke went up. The twigs crackled. Little fingers of fire licked against the dry scored rind of the ancient tree and scorched it. A tremor ran through the whole willow. The leaves seemed to hiss above their heads with a sound of pain and anger. A loud scream came from Merry, and from far inside the tree they heard Pippin give a muffled yell.

 

"Put it out! Put it out!" cried Merry. "He'll squeeze me in two, if you don't. He says so!"

 

"Who? What?" shouted Frodo, rushing round to the other side of the tree.

 

"Put it out! Put it out!" begged Merry. The branches of the willow began to sway violently. There was a sound as of a wind rising and spreading outwards to the branches of all the other trees round about, as though they had dropped a stone into the quiet slumber of the river-valley and set up ripples of anger that ran out over the whole Forest. Sam kicked at the little fire and stamped out the sparks. But Frodo, without any clear idea of why he did so, or what he hoped for, ran along the path cryinghelp! help! help! It seemed to him that he could hardly hear the sound of his own shrill voice: it was blown away from him by the willow-wind and drowned in a clamour of leaves, as soon as the words left his mouth. He felt desperate: lost and witless.

 

Suddenly he slopped. There was an answer, or so he thought; but it seemed to come from behind him, away down the path further back in the Forest. He turned round and listened, and soon there could be no doubt: someone was singing a song; a deep glad voice was singing carelessly and happily, but it was singing nonsense:

 

Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!

 

Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!

 

Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!

 

 

Half hopeful and half afraid of some new danger, Frodo and Sam now both stood still. Suddenly out of a long string of nonsense-words (or so they seemed) the voice rose up loud and clear and burst into this song:

 

Hey! Come merry dot! derry dol! My darling!

 

Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.

 

Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,

 

Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,

 

There my pretty lady is. River-woman's daughter,

 

Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.

 

Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing

 

Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?

 

Hey! Come merry dol! deny dol! and merry-o,

 

Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!

 

Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!

 

Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.

 

Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing.

 

Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?

 

 

Frodo and Sam stood as if enchanted. The wind puffed out. The leaves hung silently again on stiff branches. There was another burst of song, and then suddenly, hopping and dancing along the path, there appeared above the reeds an old battered hat with a tall crown and a long blue feather stuck in the band. With another hop and a bound there came into view a man, or so it seemed. At any rate he was too large and heavy for a hobbit, if not quite tall enough for one of the Big People, though he made noise enough for one, slumping along with great yellow boots on his thick legs, and charging through grass and rushes like a cow going down to drink. He had a blue coat and a long brown beard; his eyes were blue and bright, and his face was red as a ripe apple, but creased into a hundred wrinkles of laughter. In his hands he carried on a large leaf as on a tray a small pile of white water-lilies.

 

"Help!" cried Frodo and Sam running towards him with their hands stretched out.

 

"Whoa! Whoa! steady there!" cried the old man, holding up one hand, and they stopped short, as if they had been struck stiff. "Now, my little fellows, where be you a-going to, puffing like a bellows? What's the matter here then? Do you know who I am? I'm Tom Bombadil. Tell me what's your trouble! Tom's in a hurry now. Don't you crush my lilies!"

 

"My friends are caught in the willow-tree," cried Frodo breathlessly.

 

"Master Merry's being squeezed in a crack!" cried Sam.

 

"What?" shouted Tom Bombadil, leaping up in the air. "Old Man Willow? Naught worse than that, eh? That can soon be mended. I know the tune for him. Old grey Willow-man! I'll freeze his marrow cold, if he don't behave himself. I'll sing his roots off. I'll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away. Old Man Willow!" Setting down his lilies carefully on the grass, he ran to the tree. There he saw Merry's feet still sticking out - the rest had already been drawn further inside. Tom put his mouth to the crack and began singing into it in a low voice. They could not catch the words, but evidently Merry was aroused. His legs began to kick. Tom sprang away, and breaking off a hanging branch smote the side of the willow with it. "You let them out again, Old Man Willow!" he said. "What be you a-thinking of? You should not be waking. Eat earth! Dig deep! Drink water! Go to sleep! Bombadil is talking!" He then seized Merry's feet and drew him out of the suddenly widening crack.

 

There was a tearing creak and the other crack split open, and out of it Pippin sprang, as if he had been kicked. Then with a loud snap both cracks closed fast again. A shudder ran through the tree from root to tip, and complete silence fell.

 

"Thank you!" said the hobbits, one after the other.