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  1. Foreword
  2.  
  3.  
  4.      This  tale grew in the telling, until it became  a history of the Great War of the  Ring and included  many glimpses of the yet more ancient history that preceded it. It was begun soon after The  Hobbit was written and before its publication in 1937; but I did not go  on with this sequel, for I wished first  to complete and set in  order the mythology and  legends of the Elder Days, which had then been taking shape for some years. I desired to do  this for my own satisfaction,  and  I had little hope that other people would  be interested  in  this work, especially  since it was primarily  linguistic in inspiration and  was begun  in order to provide  the necessary background of 'history' for Elvish tongues.      When  those  whose advice and opinion I sought corrected little hope to no hope, I went back to the sequel, encouraged by  requests from readers for more information concerning hobbits and their adventures. But the story  was drawn  irresistibly  towards the  older world, and became an account,  as it were, of its end and passing away  before its beginning and middle had  been told. The process  had begun  in the writing  of The Hobbit, in which  there were  already  some  references to the older  matter:  Elrond, Gondolin, the High-elves, and the  orcs,  as  well as glimpses that had arisen unbidden of things higher or deeper  or darker than its surface: Durin,  Moria, Gandalf, the Necromancer,  the  Ring.  The  discovery  of the significance  of  these glimpses and of  their relation to  the ancient histories revealed the Third Age and its culmination in the War of the Ring.      Those who  had asked for  more information about hobbits eventually got it, but they had to wait a long time; for the composition of The Lord of the Rings went on at intervals during the  years 1936 to 1949, a period in which I had  many  duties that  I did not neglect, and  many  other interests as a learner and teacher  that often absorbed  me. The delay was, of course, also increased by the outbreak of war in 1939, by the end of which  year the tale had not yet reached  the  end  of Book  One. In spite of the darkness of the next  five years I found that the story could  not now be  wholly abandoned, and  I plodded on, mostly  by night, till I stood  by Balin's tomb in Moria. There I halted for a long while. It  was almost a  year later when I went on and so came to Lothlurien and the Great River late in 1941. In the next year
  5. I  wrote the first drafts of the  matter  that now stands as Book Three, and the beginnings of  chapters I and III of Book Five; and there as the beacons flared in  Anurien  and Thjoden came to Harrowdale I stopped.  Foresight had failed and there was no time for thought.      It was  during 1944  that, leaving the loose ends and perplexities of a war which it was my task to  conduct, or at least to report, 1 forced myself to tackle the journey of Frodo  to  Mordor.  These chapters,  eventually  to become  Book Four,  were  written  and  sent  out  as  a  serial  to my son, Christopher, then in South Africa with the RAF.  Nonetheless it took another five  years before the tale was brought to its present end;  in that  time I changed my house, my chair,  and my college,  and the days though  less dark were no less laborious.  Then when the 'end' had  at last  been reached  the whole story had to be revised, and indeed  largely re-written backwards. And it had to be typed, and  re-typed: by me; the cost of professional typing by the ten-fingered was beyond my means.      The Lord of the  Rings has been read by many  people since  it  finally appeared in print; and I should like to say something here with reference to the many opinions  or guesses that I  have  received or have read concerning the motives  and meaning  of  the tale. The prime motive was the desire of a tale-teller  to try  his hand at a  really long  story that would  hold  the attention  of  readers, amuse them, delight  them, and at times maybe excite them or deeply move them. As a guide I had only my own  feelings for what is appealing or moving, and for  many the guide  was inevitably often at fault. Some who have read the book, or at  any rate have reviewed it, have found it boring, absurd, or contemptible; and I have no  cause  to complain, since  I have similar opinions of  their works, or of the kinds  of writing that they evidently  prefer. But even from the points of view of many who have enjoyed my story there is much that fails to please. It is perhaps not possible in a long tale to please everybody at  all  points, nor to displease everybody at the same points; for I find from the letters that I have  received  that the passages or chapters that are to some a blemish  are all by others specially approved. The  most critical  reader of all, myself, now finds many defects, minor and major, but  being fortunately under no obligation either to review the book  or  to write  it again, he will pass over these in silence, except one that has been noted by others: the book is too short.      As for any inner meaning or  'message', it has in the intention  of the author none. It is neither allegorical nor topical. As the story grew it put
  6. down roots  (into the past) and threw out unexpected branches: but  its main theme was  settled from  the outset by the  inevitable choice of the Ring as the link between it and  The Hobbit. The crucial chapter, "The Shadow of the Past', is  one of the oldest parts of the tale.  It  was written long before the foreshadow  of  1939 had yet become a threat of inevitable disaster, and from that  point the  story would have developed along essentially  the same lines, if that disaster had been averted. Its sources are things long before in mind, or in some  cases already written, and  little or nothing in it was modified by the war that began in 1939 or its sequels.      The real war  does not resemble the legendary war in its process or its conclusion. If it had inspired  or  directed  the development of the legend, then certainly the  Ring would have  been seized and used against Sauron; he would  not have been annihilated  but enslaved, and Barad-dyr would not have been destroyed but occupied. Saruman, failing to get possession of the Ring, would m the confusion  and treacheries of the  time have found in Mordor the missing links in his own researches into Ring-lore, and before long he would have made a Great  Ring  of his  own with which to challenge the self-styled Ruler of Middle-earth.  In that conflict both sides would  have held hobbits in hatred and contempt: they would not long have survived even as slaves.      Other arrangements could be devised according to the tastes or views of those  who  like allegory  or  topical reference.  But I  cordially  dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and  wary  enough to  detect  its  presence. I  much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied  applicability  to the  thought  and  experience of readers. I think that many confuse 'applicability' with 'allegory'; but  the one  resides  in the  freedom of the reader, and the  other in  the purposed domination of the author.      An author cannot of course remain wholly unaffected  by his experience, but the ways in which a story-germ uses the soil of experience are extremely complex,  and  attempts  to  define  the  process  are at  best guesses from evidence  that  is  inadequate  and  ambiguous.  It  is also  false,  though naturally  attractive,  when  the  lives  of   an  author  and  critic  have overlapped, to  suppose that the movements of thought or the events of times common to both were necessarily the most powerful influences. One has indeed personally to come under the shadow of war to feel fully its oppression; but as the years go by it seems now often forgotten that to  be caught  in youth
  7. by  1914 was no less hideous an experience  than to  be involved in 1939 and the  following years. By 1918 all but one of my close  friends were dead. Or to  take  a less grievous  matter:  it  has been supposed by some  that 'The Scouring of  the Shire' reflects the situation in England at the time when I was finishing  my tale. It does  not. It is an  essential  part of the plot, foreseen from the outset, though in the event  modified  by the character of Saruman as  developed  in  the story  without, need I  say,  any allegorical significance or contemporary political reference  whatsoever. It has  indeed some basis in experience,  though  slender (for the  economic situation  was entirely different),  and much further back. The country in which I lived in childhood was  being  shabbily  destroyed before  I was  ten, in  days  when motor-cars were  rare objects  (I had  never seen  one) and  men were  still building suburban railways.  Recently I saw in a paper a picture of the last decrepitude of  the once  thriving  corn-mill beside its  pool that long ago seemed to me so important.  I never liked the looks of the Young miller, but his father,  the Old  miller,  had  a  black  beard,  and he  was  not named Sandyman.      The  Lord  of  the  Rings is  now  issued in  a  new  edition,  and the opportunity  has  been  taken  of  revising  it.  A  number  of  errors  and inconsistencies that still remained in  the text have been corrected, and an attempt has been made to provide information on a few points which attentive readers have raised. I have considered all their comments and enquiries, and if some seem to have been passed over  that  may be because I have failed to keep  my  notes in  order;  but many  enquiries  could only  be answered  by additional appendices, or indeed  by the  production  of an accessory volume containing  much of  the material that I did not  include  in  the  original edition, in particular more detailed linguistic information. In the meantime this edition offers this Foreword, an  addition to the Prologue, some notes, and an index of the names of persons and places. This index is in  intention complete in items  but not in references,  since for the present  purpose it has been  necessary to reduce its bulk. A complete index, making full use of the  material  prepared  for  me  by Mrs.  N. Smith,  belongs  rather to the accessory volume.
  8.  
  9. * PROLOGUE *
  10.  
  11.  
  12. 1. Concerning Hobbits
  13.  
  14.  
  15.      This  book  is largely  concerned  with  Hobbits, and from its pages  a reader  may discover  much of their character and a little of their history. Further information will also be found in the selection from the Red Book of Westmarch  that has already been published, under the  title of The  Hobbit. That story  was derived  from the earlier chapters of the Red Book, composed by  Bilbo himself, the first Hobbit to become famous in  the world at large, and called by him There and  Back Again, since they told of his journey into the East and his  return: an adventure  which later involved all the Hobbits in the great events of that Age that are here related.      Many, however, may wish to know more about  this remarkable people from the outset, while some  may not possess the earlier book. For such readers a few notes on the more important points are here  collected from Hobbit-lore, and the first adventure is briefly recalled.      Hobbits are  an  unobtrusive  but  very  ancient  people, more numerous formerly than they are today; for they love peace and quiet and  good tilled earth: a well-ordered and well-farmed countryside was their favourite haunt. They do not and did not understand or like machines more  complicated than a forge-bellows, a water-mill, or a  hand-loom, though  they were skilful with tools. Even in ancient days they  were, as a rule, shy of 'the Big Folk', as they call us, and now  they avoid us with  dismay and are  becoming hard  to find. They are quick of hearing and sharp-eyed, and though they are inclined to be  fat  and do not hurry unnecessarily, they are nonetheless  nimble and deft  in  their  movements.  They  possessed  from  the  first  the  art  of disappearing  swiftly and silently, when large folk whom they do not wish to meet come blundering by; and this an they have developed until to Men it may seem  magical. But Hobbits have never, in  fact,  studied magic of any kind, and their elusiveness  is due  solely to a professional skill  that heredity and  practice,  and  a  close  friendship  with  the  earth,  have  rendered
  16. inimitable by bigger and clumsier races.      For  they are  a  little people,  smaller  than Dwarves:  less tout and stocky, that is, even when they  are not actually much shorter. Their height is  variable, ranging between two and  four feet of our measure. They seldom now reach three feet; but they hive dwindled, they  say, and in ancient days they were  taller. According to the Red Book,  Bandobras Took  (Bullroarer), son of Isengrim the Second, was four foot five and able to ride a  horse. He was  surpassed  in all Hobbit records only by two famous characters of  old; but that curious matter is dealt with in this book.      As for the Hobbits of the  Shire,  with whom these tales are concerned, in  the  days  of their peace and prosperity they  were  a  merry folk. They dressed in bright colours, being notably fond of yellow and green;  but they seldom wore shoes, since  their feet had tough leathery soles  and were clad in  a  thick  curling hair, much like  the hair  of  their  heads, which was commonly  brown.  Thus,  the  only  craft  little  practised among them  was shoe-making; but they had long and skilful fingers and could make many other useful and comely  things.  Their faces  were as  a rule good-natured rather than  beautiful,  broad,  bright-eyed,  red-cheeked,  with  mouths   apt  to laughter,  and to eating and  drinking. And laugh  they  did,  and  eat, and drink, often and heartily, being fond  of simple  jests at all times, and of six meals  a  day (when  they  could  get them).  They  were  hospitable and delighted in  parties, and  in  presents, which  they  gave away freely  and eagerly accepted.      It  is plain indeed that  in spite  of later  estrangement Hobbits  are relatives of ours: far nearer to us than Elves, or even than Dwarves. Of old they spoke  the languages  of Men,  after their own fashion,  and liked  and disliked much  the same things as Men did. But what exactly our relationship is  can no longer be discovered. The  beginning of Hobbits lies  far back in the  Elder Days that  are  now  lost and  forgotten.  Only  the Elves  still preserve any  records  of  that  vanished  time, and  their  traditions  are concerned almost entirely with their own history, in which Men appear seldom and Hobbits are not mentioned at  all. Yet it is clear that Hobbits  had, in fact, lived quietly in  Middle-earth for  many  long years before other folk became  even aware of  them.  And the world being after all  full of strange creatures   beyond  count,  these  little  people   seemed  of  very  little importance. But in the days of Bilbo, and  of Frodo his  heir, they suddenly became, by no wish of  their  own, both important and renowned, and troubled
  17. the counsels of the Wise and the Great.      Those days,  the Third Age of Middle-earth, are now long past, and  the shape  of all lands has  been changed; but the regions in which Hobbits then lived were doubtless  the  same  as  those  in which  they still linger: the North-West  of the  Old World, east of  the Sea. Of their original home  the Hobbits in Bilbo's time preserved no  knowledge. A  love  of learning (other than genealogical lore) was far from general among them,  but there remained still a few  in  the  older families  who  studied their own books, and even gathered reports  of old times and distant lands  from Elves,  Dwarves,  and Men. Their own  records  began only  after the settlement of the  Shire, and their most ancient  legends hardly looked further  back than their Wandering Days. It is clear, nonetheless, from these legends, and from the evidence of their peculiar words  and customs, that like many other  folk Hobbits had in the distant past moved westward. Their earliest tales seem to glimpse a time when they dwelt in the upper vales of Anduin, between the eaves of Greenwood the Great  and the Misty Mountains. Why they  later undertook  the hard  and perilous crossing of the mountains into Eriador is no longer  certain. Their own  accounts speak  of the multiplying of Men in  the land, and of a shadow that fell on the forest,  so that it became  darkened  and its new  name was Mirkwood.      Before the  crossing  of the  mountains the Hobbits had  already become divided  into  three  somewhat   different  breeds:  Harfoots,  Stoors,  and Fallohides. The Harfoots were  browner  of skin, smaller,  and  shorter, and they were beardless and bootless; their hands and feet were neat and nimble; and they preferred highlands and hillsides. The Stoors were broader, heavier in build; their feet  and hands were larger,  and they preferred flat  lands and riversides.  The Fallohides  were fairer of  skin and also of  hair, and they were taller and slimmer than the others; they were lovers of  trees and of woodlands.      The  Harfoots had  much  to do  with Dwarves in ancient times, and long lived in the  foothills  of  the  mountains. They moved westward early,  and roamed over Eriador as far as Weathertop while the  others were still in the Wilderland. They were the most normal  and representative variety of Hobbit, and  far  the most  numerous. They  were the most inclined to settle  in one place, and longest preserved their ancestral habit of living in  tunnels and holes.
  18.      The Stoors lingered long by  the  banks of  the Great River Anduin, and were less shy of Men.  They came west after  the  Harfoots and  followed the course of the  Loudwater  southwards;  and  there  many of  them  long dwelt between Tharbad and the borders of Dunland before they moved north again.      The  Fallohides, the least numerous, were a northerly branch. They were more friendly with Elves  than the other Hobbits were, and had more skill in language  and song than in handicrafts; and of old they preferred hunting to tilling.  They  crossed the mountains north of Rivendell  and came  down the River Hoarwell. In  Eriador they soon  mingled with the other kinds that had preceded them,  but being somewhat  bolder  and more adventurous, they  were often found as leaders or chieftains among clans of Harfoots or Stoors. Even in Bilbo's time the strong Fallohidish strain could still be noted among the greater families, such as the Tooks and the Masters of Buckland.      In the  westlands  of Eriador, between  the  Misty  Mountains  and  the Mountains of  Lune, the Hobbits found both Men and Elves. Indeed, a  remnant still dwelt there of the D®nedain, the kings of Men that  came over the  Sea out of  Westernesse; but  they were  dwindling fast and  the  lands of their North Kingdom were falling far and  wide into waste. There was  room and  to spare for  incomers, and ere long  the Hobbits began  to  settle in  ordered communities. Most of their earlier settlements had long disappeared and been forgotten in Bilbo's time;  but  one of the  first to become important still endured, though reduced in  size; this  was at Bree and in the Chetwood that lay round about, some forty miles east of the Shire.      It was in these  early days,  doubtless, that the Hobbits learned their letters and  began to write  after  the  manner  of the D®nedain, who had in their  turn long before learned  the art from  the Elves. And in  those days also they  forgot  whatever languages  they had used before,  and spoke ever after the  Common  Speech, the  Westron as it  was  named, that was  current through all the lands of the kings  from Arnor to  Gondor, and about all the coasts of the Sea from Belfalas to Lune. Yet they kept  a few words of their own,  as  well as their own names of months  and days, and  a great store of personal names out of the past.      About this time legend among  the Hobbits first  becomes history with a reckoning  of years. For it was in the  one thousand  six hundred  and first year of the  Third Age  that the  Fallohide brothers, Marcho and Blanco, set out  from  Bree; and having  obtained  permission  from  the  high  king  at Fornost1,  they crossed the brown river Baranduin with a  great following of
  19. Hobbits.  They passed over the Bridge of Stonebows, that had been  built  in the  days  of the  power of the North Kingdom,  and they took ail  the  land beyond  to  dwell in,  between  the river and  the Far Downs.  All  that was demanded of them was  that they should keep the Great Bridge in  repair, and all other bridges  and roads,  speed the king's messengers, and  acknowledge his lordship.      Thus began  the Shire-reckoning, for the year  of  the  crossing of the Brandywine (as the  Hobbits turned the name) became  Year One  of the Shire, and all later dates were reckoned from it.2 At once the western Hobbits fell in love with their new land, and they  remained there, and soon passed  once more out  of the history  of Men and of Elves. While there  was still a king they  were in name his subjects, but they were, in  fact, ruled by their own chieftains  and meddled not at all with events in the world outside. To  the last  battle at Fornost with the Witch-lord of Angmar they  sent some bowmen to the aid of the king, or so they maintained, though no tales of Men record it.  But in that war the North Kingdom ended; and then the  Hobbits took the land for their own, and they chose from their own chiefs a Thain to hold the authority of the king that  was  gone. There for a thousand years  they were little troubled  by wars, and  they prospered and  multiplied after the Dark Plague (S.R. 37) until the disaster of  the Long Winter and the famine  that followed it. Many thousands then  perished, but the Days of Dearth (1158-60) were at the time of this  tale long past and  the Hobbits  had again  become accustomed  to plenty. The land  was rich and kindly, and though it had long been deserted  when they entered it,  it  had  before been  well tilled, and there the king had once had many farms, cornlands, vineyards, and woods.      Forty leagues it stretched from the Far Downs to the Brandywine Bridge, and fifty from the northern moors to  the marshes in the south. The  Hobbits named  it  the Shire, as the region of the  authority of their Thain,  and a district of well-ordered  business; and there  in that pleasant comer of the world they plied their well-ordered business of living, and they heeded less and less the world outside where dark things moved, until they came to think that  peace and  plenty were the rule in Middle-earth and the  right of  all sensible folk. They forgot or ignored what little they had ever known of the Guardians, and of  the labours of those that made possible the long peace of the  Shire. They were, in fact, sheltered, but they had ceased  to  remember it.      At no  time had Hobbits of any  kind been  warlike, and  they had never
  20. fought  among  themselves. In olden days  they had, of  course,  been  often obliged to fight to maintain themselves in a hard world; but in Bilbo's time that was very ancient history. The last battle, before this story opens, and indeed the  only  one  that had ever been  fought  within the borders of the Shire, was beyond  living memory: the Battle  of  Greenfields, S.R. 1147, in which Bandobras Took routed an invasion of Orcs. Even the weathers had grown milder, and the  wolves  that had once  come ravening  out of the  North  in bitter white winters were  now only  a grandfather's tale. So,  though there was still  some store of  weapons in the  Shire, these were  used  mostly as trophies, hanging above hearths or on  walls, or gathered into the museum at Michel Delving. The  Mathom-house it was  called; for  anything that Hobbits had  no immediate use for, but were unwilling to throw away,  they  called a mathom.  Their dwellings were apt to become rather crowded with mathoms, and many of the presents that passed from hand to hand were of that son.      Nonetheless, ease and peace had left this people still curiously tough. They were,  if it came to it, difficult to daunt or to kill; and they  were, perhaps,  so unwearyingly fond of  good things not least because they could, when put to it, do without them,  and could survive rough handling by grief, foe,  or weather in  a way that astonished those who did not know them  well and  looked  no further than their bellies and their well-fed  faces. Though slow to quarrel, and for sport killing nothing that lived, they were doughty at bay,  and  at  need could still handle arms. They shot well with the bow, for they were keen-eyed and sure at the mark. Not only with bows and arrows. If any Hobbit stooped for a stone,  it was well to get  quickly under cover, as all trespassing beasts knew very well.      All Hobbits had originally  lived in  holes in the  ground, or  so they believed,  and in such dwellings they still felt most at  home; but  in  the course of time they had been obliged to adopt other forms of abode. Actually in  the Shire in Bilbo's  days it  was, as a rule, only the richest and  the poorest Hobbits  that maintained the old custom. The poorest  went on living in burrows  of the  most  primitive  kind,  mere holes indeed, with only one window or  none;  while  the  well-to-do  still constructed  more  luxurious versions of the simple diggings of old.  But suitable  sites for these large and ramifying tunnels (or smials as they called them) were not everywhere to be found; and in the flats and the low-lying districts the Hobbits, as  they
  21. multiplied, began to  build above ground. Indeed, even in the hilly  regions and the older villages, such  as  Hobbiton or Tuckborough,  or in the  chief township of the Shire, Michel Delving  on  the White Downs, there  were  now many houses  of wood,  brick, or stone. These  were  specially  favoured  by millers, smiths, ropers,  and cartwrights, and others of that sort; for even when  they  had holes to live in. Hobbits had long been  accustomed to build sheds and workshops.      The habit of building farmhouses and barns was said to have begun among the inhabitants of the Marish  down by the Brandywine.  The  Hobbits of that quarter, the Eastfarthing, were rather large and heavy-legged, and they wore dwarf-boots in muddy  weather. But they were well known  to  be Stoors in  a large part of their blood, as indeed was shown by the down that many grew on their chins. No Harfoot  or Fallohide had  any trace of a beard. Indeed, the folk  of  the Marish,  and  of Buckland,  east  of  the  River,  which  they afterwards  occupied, came for the most  part  later into the Shire  up from south-away;  and  they still had many peculiar names and strange  words  not found elsewhere in the Shire.      It is probable that the craft of building, as many other crafts beside, was derived from the D®nedain. But  the Hobbits  may  have learned it direct from the Elves, the teachers of  Men  in their  youth. For the Elves of  the High Kindred had not yet forsaken Middle-earth, and they dwelt still at that time at  the Grey Havens away to the west, and in other  places within reach of the  Shire. Three  Elf-towers of immemorial age were still to be seen  on the  Tower Hills  beyond the  western marches.  They shone far  off  in  the moonlight. The tallest was furthest away, standing alone upon a green mound. The Hobbits of the Westfarthing said that one could see the Sea from the lop of that tower; but  no  Hobbit had ever  been known to climb it. Indeed, few Hobbits  had ever  seen or  sailed  upon the Sea, and fewer  still had  ever returned to  report  it. Most Hobbits regarded even  rivers  and small boats with deep misgivings, and not  many of  them could swim.  And as the days of the Shire lengthened  they  spoke  less and  less with  the  Elves, and grew afraid  of them, and distrustful of those  that  had dealings with them; and the Sea  became  a word  of fear  among them, and a token of death, and they turned their faces away from the hills in the west.      The craft  of building may have come from Elves or Men, but the Hobbits used it in  their own fashion. They did not go in  for  towers. Their houses were usually long, low,  and comfortable. The oldest kind  were,  indeed, no
  22. more than built imitations of smials, thatched with dry  grass or  straw, or roofed with turves,  and having walls somewhat  bulged. That stage, however, belonged to the early days of the Shire, and hobbit-building had long  since been  altered, improved by devices,  learned from Dwarves,  or discovered by themselves.  A  preference for round windows, and even round  doors, was the chief remaining peculiarity of hobbit-architecture.      The houses  and  the  holes  of  Shire-hobbits  were  often  large, and inhabited by large families. (Bilbo and Frodo Baggins were as bachelors very exceptional,  as they were also in many other ways, such as their friendship with the Elves.) Sometimes, as in the case  of the Tooks of Great Smials, or the Brandybucks  of  Brandy Hall,  many  generations of  relatives  lived in (comparative) peace  together  in one ancestral  and many-tunnelled mansion. All Hobbits were, in any case,  clannish and reckoned up their relationships with great care. They drew long and elaborate family-trees with  innumerable branches. In dealing with Hobbits it is important to remember who is related to whom,  and in what degree. It would be impossible in this book to set out a  family-tree  that included  even the more  important members of the  more important families at  the  time which these tales tell of. The genealogical trees  at  the  end  of  the  Red Book of  Westmarch  are  a  small book  in themselves,  and all but Hobbits  would find them  exceedingly dull. Hobbits delighted in such things, if they  were accurate: they liked  to  have books filled with  things that they already knew, set out fair and  square with no contradictions.
  23.  
  24.  
  25. 2. Concerning Pipe-weed
  26.  
  27.  
  28.      There is another astonishing  thing about Hobbits of old  that must  be mentioned, an astonishing habit: they imbibed  or inhaled, through pipes  of clay or wood, the smoke of the burning leaves of  a herb, which they  called pipe-weed or leaf, a variety  probably of Nicotiana. A great deal of mystery surrounds the  origin  of this peculiar  custom,  or  'art' as  the  Hobbits preferred to call it. All that could be discovered about it in antiquity was put together by Meriadoc Brandybuck (later Master of Buckland), and since he and  the  tobacco  of the Southfarthing  play  a part in  the  history  that follows, his remarks in the introduction to his Herblore of the Shire may be quoted.      'This,'  he says, 'is the one art that we can certainly claim to be our own invention.  When  Hobbits  first began  to smoke  is not known,  all the legends and family histories take it for granted; for ages folk in the Shire smoked various herbs, some fouler, some sweeter. But all accounts agree that Tobold Hornblower  of  Longbottom  in the Southfarthing first grew  the true pipe-weed in his gardens in  the days of Isengrim the Second, about the year 1070 of Shire-reckoning. The best home-grown still comes from that district, especially the  varieties  now  known  as Longbottom  Leaf,  Old  Toby,  and Southern Star.      'How Old  Toby came by  the plant is not recorded, for to his dying day he would not tell.  He knew much about herbs, but he was no traveller. It is said that in his youth he went often to Bree, though he certainly never went further from the Shire than that.  It is thus quite possible that he learned of this plant in Bree, where now, at  any rate,  it grows well on  the south slopes of the hill. The  Bree-hobbits  claim to have been the  first  actual smokers of the pipe-weed.  They claim,  of  course, to have done  everything before the people of the Shire,  whom they refer  to as "colonists"; but  in this case their claim is, I think,  likely to be true. And  certainly it was from Bree  that the  art  of smoking  the genuine weed spread  in the recent centuries among Dwarves and such other folk, Rangers, Wizards, or wanderers, as still passed  to and fro through that  ancient road-meeting. The home and centre of  the an is thus to be found in  the old inn of  Bree, The Prancing
  29. Pony, that has been kept by the family of Butterbur from time beyond record.      'All the same,  observations  that I have made on my own many  journeys south have convinced me that the weed itself  is not  native to our parts of the  world,  but  came  northward  from the lower Anduin, whither  it was, I suspect, originally brought  over  Sea by the Men  of  Westernesse. It grows abundantly  in  Gondor, and  there  is richer and  larger than in the North, where it is never found wild, and flourishes  only in  warm sheltered places like Longbottom. The Men of Gondor call it sweet galenas, and esteem it only for the fragrance of its  flowers. From  that land it must have been carried up the Greenway  during the long centuries between the coming of Elendil and our own day.  But even the D®nedain of  Gondor allow us this credit: Hobbits first put it into pipes.  Not even the Wizards first thought of that  before we did.  Though one Wizard that I knew took up the art long ago,  and became as skilful in it as in all other things that he put his mind to.'
  30.  
  31.  
  32. 3. Of the Ordering of the Shire
  33.  
  34.  
  35.      The  Shire was  divided  into  four  quarters,  the  Farthings  already referred to.  North,  South, East,  and  West;  and  these again each into a number of folklands,  which still bore the names of some of  the old leading families, although by the time  of this  history these names were no  longer found only in their  proper folklands.  Nearly all Tooks  still lived in the Tookland,  but that  was not  true  of  many  other  families,  such  as the Bagginses  or  the Boffins.  Outside the  Farthings  were the  East and West Marches:  the  Buckland  (see  beginning of Chapter  V,  Book  I);  and  the Westmarch added to the Shire in S.R. 1462.      The Shire at  this time had hardly any 'government'. Families  for  the most part  managed their  own affairs. Growing  food and eating  it occupied most of their time. In  other matters they were, as a rule, generous and not greedy, but  contented and moderate, so  that estates, farms, workshops, and small trades tended to remain unchanged for generations.      There  remained,  of course, the  ancient tradition concerning the high king at  Fornost, or Norbury as they called it, away north of the Shire. But there had been no king for nearly  a thousand years,  and even the ruins  of Kings' Norbury  were covered with grass. Yet the Hobbits  still said of wild folk and wicked things (such as trolls) that they had not heard of the king. For they attributed to the king of old all their essential laws; and usually they kept the laws of free will, because they were The Rules (as they said), both ancient and just.      It is true  that  the Took  family had long  been  pre-eminent; for the office  of  Thain had  passed  to them  (from the Oldbucks)  some  centuries before,  and the chief  Took had borne that title ever since. The  Thain was the  master  of  the  Shire-moot, and captain of  the Shire-muster  and  the Hobbitry-in-arms,  but  as  muster  and moot  were only  held  in  times  of emergency,  which no  longer occurred, the Thainship  had  ceased to be more than  a  nominal dignity. The  Took  family was  still,  indeed,  accorded a special respect, for it remained  both numerous and exceedingly wealthy, and was  liable  to produce in every generation strong  characters  of  peculiar habits and even adventurous temperament. The latter qualities, however, were
  36. now  rather  tolerated (in  the  rich) than  generally  approved. The custom endured, nonetheless, of referring to the head of the  family  as The  Took, and of  adding  to  his  name, if  required, a number: such  as Isengrim the Second, for instance.      The only  real official  in the Shire  at  this date  was the Mayor  of Michel Delving (or of the Shire), who was  elected every  seven years at the Free Fair on the White  Downs at  the Lithe, that is at Midsummer.  As mayor almost   his  only  duty   was  to  preside   at  banquets,  given   on  the Shire-holidays,  which occurred at  frequent intervals. But  the  offices of Postmaster and First Shirriff were attached  to  the  mayoralty, so that  he managed  both the  Messenger Service  and  the  Watch.  These were the  only Shire-services,  and the Messengers  were the  most  numerous,  and much the busier of the two. By no means all Hobbits were lettered, but those who were wrote constantly to all their friends (and a  selection  of their relations) who lived further off than an afternoon's walk.      The Shirriffs was the name  that the  Hobbits gave to  their police, or the nearest equivalent that they possessed. They had, of course, no uniforms (such things being  quite unknown), only  a feather in their caps;  and they were  in  practice rather haywards than policemen,  more concerned  with the strayings of  beasts than of people. There were in all the Shire only twelve of them, three in  each  Farthing,  for  Inside Work. A  rather larger body, varying  at need,  was  employed  to  'beat  the  bounds', and to  see  that Outsiders of any kind, great or small, did not make themselves a nuisance.      At the time  when this story begins the Bounders, as they were  called, had been greatly  increased.  There  were  many reports  and  complaints  of strange persons  and creatures prowling about the borders, or over them: the first  sign  that all  was not  quite as  it  should be, and always had been except  in tales and legends of  long ago. Few heeded the sign, and not even Bilbo yet had any notion of what it portended. Sixty years  had passed since he set out on his  memorable journey, and he was old  even for Hobbits,  who reached a hundred  as often as not; but much evidently still remained of the considerable  wealth that he  had brought back. How  much or  how  little he revealed to no one,  not even to Frodo  his favourite 'nephew'. And he still kept secret the ring that he bad found.
  37.  
  38.  
  39. 4. Of the Finding of the Ring
  40.  
  41.  
  42.      As is  told in The Hobbit, there came one day to Bilbo's door the great Wizard, Gandalf the Grey, and thirteen dwarves with him: none other, indeed, than Thorin Oakenshield,  descendant  of kings, and his twelve companions in exile. With  them he set  out, to his own lasting astonishment, on a morning of  April, it being then  the year 1341 Shire-reckoning, on a quest of great treasure, the dwarf-hoards of the Kings under the Mountain,  beneath  Erebor in Dale, far off in the East. The quest was  successful, and the Dragon that guarded the hoard was destroyed. Yet, though before  all  was won the Battle of Five Armies was fought, and Thorin was slain, and  many deeds  of  renown were done, the matter would scarcely have concerned later history, or earned more than a note in the long annals of the Third Age, but for an  'accident' by the way.  The  party was assailed by  Orcs in a  high pass  of  the Misty Mountains as they went towards Wilderland; and so it happened that Bilbo was lost for a while in the black orc-mines deep under the mountains, and there, as he groped  in vain in the dark, he put  his hand on  a ring, lying on the floor of a tunnel. He put it in his pocket. It seemed then like mere luck.      Trying to find  his way out. Bilbo went on  down to  the  roots  of the mountains, until he could go no further.  At the bottom  of the tunnel lay a cold lake far  from the light, and on an island  of rock  in the water lived Gollum. He was a loathsome little creature: he paddled a small boat with his large  flat feet,  peering with pale luminous eyes  and  catching blind fish with his long fingers, and eating  them raw.  He ate  any living thing, even orc, if he could catch it and strangle it without a struggle. He possessed a secret treasure that had come to him long ages ago,  when he  still lived in the light: a ring  of gold  that made its  wearer invisible. It was the  one thing he  loved, his 'precious', and he talked to  it, even when it  was not with him. For he kept it hidden safe in a hole on his island, except when he was hunting or spying on the ores of the mines.      Maybe he would have attacked Bilbo at once, if the ring had been on him when they met;  but it was  not, and  the hobbit held  in his hand an Elvish knife,  which served him as a sword. So to gain time Gollum challenged Bilbo to the Riddle-game,  saying that if he  asked a riddle which Bilbo could not
  43. guess, then  he would kill him and eat him;  but if Bilbo defeated him, then he would do as Bilbo wished: he would lead him to a way out of the tunnels.      Since he was lost in the dark without hope, and could neither go on nor back. Bilbo accepted the challenge; and they asked one another many riddles. In the end Bilbo won the game, more by luck (as it seemed) than by wits; for he was stumped at last  for a riddle to ask, and cried out, as his hand came upon the ring he lad picked up and forgotten:  What  haw I got in my pocket? This Gollum failed to answer, though he demanded three guesses.      The  Authorities, it is true, differ whether  this last  question was a mere  'question' and not  a  'riddle' according to  the strict rules  of the Game; but all agree that, after accepting it and trying to guess the answer, Gollum was bound by his promise. And Bilbo pressed him to keep his word; for the  thought  came  to him that  this slimy creature might prove false, even though  such  promises  were held sacred, and of old all  but  the wickedest things feared to break them. But after ages alone in the dark Gollum's heart was black, and  treachery was in it.  He slipped  away, and  returned to the island, of which Bilbo knew nothing,  not far off in the dark  water. There, he  thought,  lay  his  ring.  He was hungry now,  and angry, and  once  his 'precious' was with him he would not fear any weapon at all.      But the ring was  not on the island; he had  lost it, it was  gone. His screech  sent a shiver down Bilbo's back, though he  did not  yet understand what  had happened. But Gollum had at last leaped to a guess, too late. What has  it got  in its pocketses? he  cried. The light in his eyes  was like  a green flame as he sped back to murder the hobbit and recover his 'precious'. Just  in  time Bilbo saw his peril,  and he fled blindly up the passage away from the water;  and once more he was saved by his luck. For  just as he ran he  put  his  hand in his  pocket, and  the ring  slipped  quietly on to his finger. So it was that  Gollum passed him  without seeing him, and  went  to guard  the  way out, lest the 'thief' should escape.  Warily Bilbo  followed him, as he went along, cursing, and talking to himself about his 'precious'; from which  talk at last even Bilbo guessed the truth,  and hope came to him in the darkness: he himself had  found the marvellous  ring and a chance  of escape from the orcs and from Gollum.      At length they  came to a halt before an unseen opening that led to the lower  gates  of  the mines,  on the eastward  side of the mountains.  There Gollum  crouched at bay, smelling and listening;  and Bilbo  was  tempted to
  44. slay him with his sword. But  pity stayed him, and though  he kept the ring, in  which  his  only hope lay, he  would not  use  it  to  help him kill the wretched creature at a disadvantage. In  the  end, gathering his courage, he leaped  over  Gollum in the dark, and fled away down the passage, pursued by his enemy's cries  of hate and despair: Thief,  thief! Baggins!  We hates it for ever!      Now it is a curious fact that this is not the story as Bilbo first told it to his companions.  To  them his account was  that Gollum had promised to give  him a present, if he  won the game;  but when  Gollum went to fetch it from his island he found the treasure was gone: a magic ring, which had been given to him long ago on his birthday. Bilbo guessed that this was the  very ring  that he  had found, and as he had won the game, it was already  his by right. But being in a tight place, he said nothing about it, and made Gollum show him  the way out, as a reward instead of  a present. This account Bilbo set down in  his memoirs, and he seems never to have altered it himself, not even after  the  Council of  Elrond.  Evidently  it  still  appeared in  the original Red Book, as it  did  in several of the  copies  and abstracts. But many copies contain the  true account (as an alternative), derived no  doubt from notes by Frodo  or Samwise, both of whom learned the truth, though they seem to have been unwilling to delete anything  actually written by the  old hobbit himself.      Gandalf, however,  disbelieved Bilbo's first story, as soon as he heard it,  and he continued  to be very curious about the ring. Eventually he  got the true  tale  out  of  Bilbo  after much questioning,  which for  a  while strained  their  friendship;  but  the  wizard seemed  to  think  the  truth important. Though he did not say so to Bilbo, he also thought  it important, and disturbing, to find that the good hobbit had not told the truth from the first:  quite contrary to his  habit. The idea of a 'present' was  not  mere hobbitlike  invention,  all the  same.  It was  suggested  to Bilbo,  as  he confessed, by Gollum's talk that he overheard; for Gollum did, in fact, call the  ring  his 'birthday  present', many times.  That also  Gandalf  thought strange and suspicious; but he did not discover the truth in  this point for many more years, as will be seen in this book.      Of  Bilbo's  later adventures little  more need be said here. With  the help of the ring he escaped from the orc-guards at the gate and rejoined his companions. He  used the ring many times on his  quest, chiefly for the help of his  friends; but  he kept it secret from them as long as he could. After
  45. his return to his home he never spoke  of  it  again to anyone, save Gandalf and Frodo;  and no one else  in the  Shire knew of its  existence,  or so he believed. Only to Frodo did he show  the account of  his Journey that he was writing.      His  sword,  Sting, Bilbo hung  over his  fireplace,  and  his coat  of marvellous mail, the gift of the Dwarves from the Dragon-hoard, he lent to a museum, to the Michel Delving Mathom-house in fact. But he kept in a  drawer at Bag  End  the old cloak and hood that he had worn on his travels; and the ring, secured by a fine chain, remained in his pocket.      He returned to his home at Bag End on June the 22nd in his fifty-second year (S.R. 1342),  and nothing very notable occurred in the  Shire until Mr. Baggins    began    the   preparations   for   the   celebration   of    his hundred-and-eleventh birthday  (S.R.  1401).  At  this  point  this  History begins.
  46.  
  47.  
  48. NOTE ON THE SHIRE RECORDS
  49.  
  50.  
  51.      At the end of the Third Age the part played by the Hobbits in the great events that led  to  the  inclusion  of  the Shire  in the  Reunited Kingdom awakened among them a  more widespread  interest in  their own  history; and many of their traditions, up to that time still  mainly oral, were collected and Written down. The  greater families were  also concerned with  events in the  Kingdom  at  large,  and  many  of  their members  studied its  ancient histories and  legends. By the  end of the  first century of the Fourth  Age there were already to be found in the Shire several libraries that contained many historical books and records.      The largest of these collections were probably at Undertowers, at Great Smials,  and at Brandy Hall.  This  account of the end of  the Third  Age is drawn mainly from the Red Book of Westmarch. That most important  source for the  history  of  the War  of  the Ring was so  called because it  was  long preserved  at  Undertowers,  the  home  of the Fairbairns,  Wardens  of  the Westmarch.1  It was in origin Bilbo's private diary, which he took with  him to Rivendell.  Frodo brought  it back to the Shire, together with many loose leaves of notes, and during S.R. 1420-1 he nearly filled its pages  with his account of the War.  But annexed to  it  and preserved with it, probably m a single red case, were  the three large  volumes, bound in  red leather, that Bilbo gave  to him as a parting gift. To these four  volumes there was added in Westmarch a fifth containing commentaries, genealogies, and various other matter concerning the hobbit members of the Fellowship.      The original Red Book has  not been  preserved, but  many  copies  were made,  especially of the first volume, for the use of the descendants of the children  of  Master  Samwise.  The  most  important  copy, however,  has  a different history.  It  was kept at  Great  Smials,  but it  was written  in Condor,  probably at  the  request  of the  great-grandson  of Peregrin, and completed in S.R. 1592  (F.A. 172). Its southern scribe appended this  note: Findegil,  King's Writer, finished this work in IV 172. It  is an exact copy in  all details of the Thain's Book  m Minas Tirith.  That book was  a copy, made at the request of King Elessar,  of the Red Book of the Periannath, and
  52. was brought to him by the Thain Peregrin when he retired to Gondor in IV 64.      The Thain's Book was  thus  the first copy made of  the  Red  Book  and contained much that was later omitted or lost.  In Minas  Tirith it received much  annotation, and  many  corrections, especially  of  names,  words, and quotations in the Elvish languages; and there was added to it an abbreviated version of those  parts of The  Tale of Aragorn  and Arwen which lie outside the  account of the War. The full tale  is  stated  to have been written  by Barahir, grandson of the Steward Faramir, some time after the passing of the King. But the chief importance of  Findegil's copy is that it alone contains the whole  of Bilbo's 'Translations from the  Elvish'. These  three  volumes were  found to be a work of great skill and learning in  which, between 1403 and 1418, he had used all the sources  available to  him  in Rivendell, both living and written. But  since they were little used by Frodo, being  almost entirely concerned with the Elder Days, no more is said of them here.      Since Meriadoc and Peregrin became the  heads  of their great families, and  at the  same time kept up their  connexions with Rohan and  Gondor, the libraries at Bucklebury and Tuckborough contained much that did  not  appear in the Red Book.  In Brandy Hall there were many works dealing  with Eriador and the  history of Rohan. Some of these were composed or  begun by Meriadoc himself, though in the  Shire he was chiefly remembered for  his Herblore of the Shire, and for his Reckoning of  Years m which he discussed the relation of the calendars of the Shire and Bree  to those of  Rivendell,  Gondor, and Rohan. He also wrote a short treatise on Old Words and Names  in the  Shire, having special interest  in discovering the kinship with the language of the Rohirrim of such 'shire-words' as mathom and old elements in place names.      At Great Smials the books were  of less interest to Shire-folk,  though more important for larger history. None of them was written by Peregrin, but he and  his successors  collected  many manuscripts written  by  scribes  of Gondor:  mainly  copies  or  summaries of  histories or legends  relating to Elendil  and his heirs. Only  here in the Shire were to  be  found extensive materials for  the history  of  N®menor and the  arising of  Sauron.  It was probably at Great Smials that The Tale of Years1 was put  together, with the assistance of material  collected by Meriadoc. Though  the dates  given  are often conjectural, especially for the Second Age, they deserve attention. It is   probable  that  Meriadoc  obtained   assistance  and  information  from Rivendell,  which he  visited  more  than  once.  There, though  Elrond  had
  53. departed, his sons long remained, together with some of the High-elven folk. It  is  said  that  Celeborn  went  to  dwell  there after the departure  of Galadriel; but there is no record of the day when at last he sought the Grey Havens,  and  with  him went the last  living  memory  of the  Elder Days in Middle-earth.
  54. * BOOK I *  
  55.  
  56.  
  57. Chapter 1. A Long-expected Party
  58.  
  59.  
  60.      When  Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag  End announced that  he would shortly be celebrating   his   eleventy-first  birthday   with  a   party  of   special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.      Bilbo  was very rich  and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the Shire  for  sixty   years,  ever  since  his  remarkable  disappearance  and unexpected return. The riches  he  had brought back from his travels had now become  a local legend, and it was popularly believed, whatever the old folk might  say,  that  the Hill  at Bag  End was  full  of tunnels  stuffed with treasure. And if that was not enough for  fame, there was also his prolonged vigour  to marvel at. Time wore on,  but it seemed to  have little effect on Mr. Baggins. At ninety he was much the same as at fifty. At ninety-nine they began to  call him well-preserved,  but unchanged would have been nearer the mark. There were  some that shook their heads and thought  this was too much of  a good thing; it seemed unfair that anyone should  possess  (apparently) perpetual youth as well as (reputedly) inexhaustible wealth.      'It  will  have  to be  paid for,'  they said. 'It  isn't natural,  and trouble will come of it!'      But so far trouble had not come;  and as Mr. Baggins was  generous with his money, most people were willing to forgive him his oddities and his good fortune.  He  remained  on visiting  terms with  his  relatives (except,  of course, the Sackville-Bagginses), and he had many devoted admirers among the hobbits of poor and unimportant families. But he had no close friends, until some of his younger cousins began to grow up.      The eldest of  these,  and Bilbo's favourite,  was young Frodo Baggins. When Bilbo was ninety-nine, he adopted Frodo as his heir, and brought him to live  at Bag End;  and the  hopes  of the  Sackville-Bagginses were  finally dashed. Bilbo and Frodo happened to have the same  birthday, September 22nd. 'You had better come and live here, Frodo my lad,' said  Bilbo one day; 'and then we  can  celebrate our birthday-parties  comfortably together.' At that
  61. time Frodo  was still in his tweens, as the hobbits called the irresponsible twenties between childhood and coming of age at thirty-three.      Twelve more years passed. Each year the Bagginses had given very lively combined  birthday-parties  at  Bag  End;  but  now  it  was understood that something  quite  exceptional was being planned  for that autumn.  Bilbo was going  to  be  eleventy-one,  111,  a  rather  curious  number  and  a  very respectable  age  for a hobbit (the Old Took  himself had only reached 130); and Frodo was going to be thirty-three, 33) an important number: the date of his 'coming of age'.      Tongues began to wag in  Hobbiton and Bywater; and rumour of the coming event travelled all  over the Shire. The  history and character of Mr. Bilbo Baggins became once again the  chief  topic of  conversation; and the  older folk suddenly found their reminiscences in welcome demand.      No one  had  a  more attentive audience than old Ham  Gamgee,  commonly known as  the  Gaffer. He held forth  at  The Ivy Bush,  a small inn on  the Bywater road; and he spoke with some authority, for he had tended the garden at Bag End for forty years, and had helped old Holman in the same job before that. Now that he was himself  growing old  and stiff in the joints, the job was mainly  carried on by his youngest son, Sam Gamgee. Both father  and son were on very friendly  terms with Bilbo and  Frodo. They  lived  on the Hill itself, in Number 3 Bagshot Row just below Bag End.      'A very nice  well-spoken  gentlehobbit  is  Mr.  Bilbo, as I've always said,' the Gaffer declared. With perfect truth: for Bilbo was very polite to him, calling him 'Master Hamfast', and consulting  him  constantly upon  the growing  of vegetables - in the matter of 'roots', especially  potatoes, the Gaffer was recognized as the  leading authority  by all in the neighbourhood (including himself).      'But  what about this Frodo that lives with  him?'  asked Old Noakes of Bywater.  'Baggins is his name, but he's more than  half a  Brandybuck, they say. It beats me why any Baggins  of  Hobbiton should go looking for a  wife away there in Buckland, where folks are so queer.'      'And no  wonder they're queer,'  put  in  Daddy  Twofoot  (the Gaffer's next-door neighbour),  'if they live  on  the wrong  side of the  Brandywine River, and right agin  the Old Forest. That's a dark bad place, if half  the tales be true.'      'You're right,  Dad!' said  the  Gaffer. 'Not  that  the Brandybucks of Buck-land live in the Old Forest; but they're a queer breed, seemingly. They
  62. fool about  with boats on that big  river  - and that  isn't  natural. Small wonder that trouble came of  it,  I say. But be that as it may, Mr. Frodo is as nice a young hobbit  as you could wish to meet. Very much like Mr. Bilbo, and in  more than  looks.  After all his  father  was  a Baggins.  A  decent respectable hobbit was Mr. Drogo  Baggins; there  was never much to tell  of him, till he was drownded.'      'Drownded?' said several  voices. They  had heard this and other darker rumours before, of course; but  hobbits have a passion  for  family history, and they were ready to hear  it again. 'Well, so they say,' said the Gaffer. 'You see: Mr. Drogo, he married poor Miss  Primula Brandybuck.  She  was our Mr. Bilbo's first cousin on the mother's side (her mother being the youngest of the Old Took's  daughters); and Mr.  Drogo  was his second cousin. So Mr. Frodo is his first and second cousin, once removed either way, as the saying is,  if  you  follow me.  And Mr. Drogo was  staying at Brandy Hall with his father-in-law, old Master Gorbadoc, as he often  did after his marriage (him being partial to  his vittles,  and old  Gorbadoc keeping  a mighty generous table); and he went out boating on the Brandywine River; and he and his wife were drownded, and poor Mr. Frodo only a child and all. '      'I've heard they went on the water after dinner in the moonlight,' said Old Noakes; 'and it was Drogo's weight as sunk the boat.'      'And I heard she pushed him in, and  he pulled her in after him,'  said Sandyman, the Hobbiton miller.      'You shouldn't listen  to all you hear, Sandyman,' said the Gaffer, who did not much like the miller. 'There isn't no  call to go talking of pushing and pulling. Boats are quite tricky enough for those that sit  still without looking  further for the cause of trouble. Anyway: there was this  Mr. Frodo left  an  orphan  and  stranded,  as  you  might   say,  among  those  queer Bucklanders,  being brought  up anyhow  in Brandy Hall. A regular warren, by all accounts. Old Master Gorbadoc never had fewer than  a couple  of hundred relations in  the place.  Mr. Bilbo  never did  a kinder  deed  than when he brought the lad back to live among decent folk.      'But I  reckon it was a nasty shock for those Sackville-Bagginses. They thought  they were going to get Bag End,  that time when he went off and was thought to be dead.  And then he comes back and orders them off; and he goes on living and living, and never looking a day older, bless him! And suddenly he  produces  an  heir,  and  has  all  the  papers  made  out  proper.  The
  63. Sackville-Bagginses won't never  see the inside of Bag End now, or it  is to be hoped not.'      'There's a tidy bit of money tucked away up there, I hear tell,' said a stranger,  a visitor on  business from  Michel Delving in the  Westfarthing. 'All the top of  your hill is full of tunnels packed with chests of gold and silver, and jools, by what I've heard. '      'Then you've heard  more than I  can speak  to,' answered the Gaffer. I know nothing about jools. Mr. Bilbo is free with  his money, and there seems no lack of it; but I know of no tunnel-making. I  saw Mr. Bilbo when he came back, a matter of  sixty  years  ago,  when I was a  lad. I'd  not long come prentice to old  Holman (him being my dad's cousin), but he had me up at Bag End helping  him  to keep folks from trampling and  trapessing  all over the garden while the sale was on. And in the middle of it all Mr. Bilbo comes up the Hill  with  a pony and some mighty big  bags and a couple  of  chests. I don't  doubt  they were mostly full of treasure  he had picked up in foreign parts, where there be mountains of gold, they  say;  but there wasn't enough to fill tunnels. But  my lad Sam will know  more about that. He's in and out of Bag End. Crazy about stories of the old days he is, and he listens to all Mr. Bilbo's  tales. Mr. Bilbo has learned him his letters - meaning no harm, mark you, and I hope no harm will come of it.      'Elves and Dragons' I says  to him. 'Cabbages and  potatoes are  better for me and  you. Don't go getting mixed up in  the business of your betters, or you'll land in trouble  too big for you,' I says  to him. And I might say it to others,' he added with a look at the stranger and the miller.      But the Gaffer did  not convince  his audience. The  legend  of Bilbo's wealth was now too  firmly fixed in the minds  of the  younger generation of hobbits.      'Ah, but he has likely enough been adding to what he brought at first,' argued the miller, voicing common  opinion. 'He's often  away from home. And look at the outlandish  folk that visit him:  dwarves  coming at night,  and that old wandering conjuror, Gandalf,  and  all. You can say  what you like, Gaffer, but Bag End's a queer place, and its folk are queerer.'      'And you can say what you like, about what you know no more of than you do of boating, Mr. Sandyman,' retorted the Gaffer, disliking the miller even more  than usual. If  that's being queer, then we could do  with a bit  more queerness in these parts. There's  some  not  far away that wouldn't offer a pint of beer to a friend, if they  lived  in  a hole with golden  walls. But
  64. they do things proper at Bag End. Our  Sam says that  everyone's going to be invited to the party, and there's  going to be presents, mark you,  presents for all - this very month as is.'      That very month  was  September, and as fine as you could ask. A day or two  later a rumour (probably  started by the knowledgeable Sam)  was spread about  that there were going to be fireworks - fireworks, what is more, such as had not been seen in the Shire for nigh  on a  century, not indeed  since the Old Took died.      Days passed  and The Day drew nearer.  An odd-looking waggon laden with odd-looking packages rolled into Hobbiton one evening and toiled up the Hill to  Bag End. The startled hobbits peered out of lamplit doors to gape at it. It was driven  by outlandish  folk, singing strange songs: dwarves with long beards and deep hoods. A few of them remained at Bag End.  At the end of the second week in September a cart came in  through Bywater from the  direction of the  Brandywine Bridge in  broad daylight. An old  man was driving it all alone.  He  wore a tall pointed blue hat,  a  long grey cloak,  and a silver scarf. He  had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows  that stuck  out beyond the  brim of  his  hat. Small hobbit-children ran after the cart all through Hobbiton and right up the hill. It had a cargo of fireworks, as they rightly guessed. At Bilbo's front door the old man began to unload: there were great bundles of fireworks of all sorts and shapes, each labelled with a large red G and the elf-rune, .      That was Gandalf's mark, of course,  and the  old man  was Gandalf  the Wizard,  whose  fame in the Shire  was  due mainly to  his skill with fires, smokes, and lights.  His real business was far more difficult and dangerous, but  the Shire-folk knew nothing about  it. To them  he was just one  of the 'attractions'  at the Party. Hence the excitement of the hobbit-children. 'G for Grand!' they  shouted, and the old man smiled.  They knew him by  sight, though he only appeared in Hobbiton occasionally and never stopped long; but neither they nor  any  but  the  oldest of  their elders had seen one of his firework displays - they now belonged to the legendary past.      When the old  man,  helped by  Bilbo  and  some  dwarves,  had finished unloading. Bilbo gave a few pennies away; but not a single squib or  cracker was forthcoming, to the disappointment of the onlookers.      'Run  away now!' said  Gandalf.  'You  will  get plenty  when  the time comes.' Then he disappeared inside with Bilbo, and the door  was  shut.  The young  hobbits  stared at  the door  in vain for a while, and then made off,
  65. feeling that the day of the party would never come.      Inside Bag End, Bilbo and Gandalf were sitting at the open window  of a small room looking out west on to the garden.  The late afternoon was bright and   peaceful.  The  flowers  glowed   red  and  golden:  snap-dragons  and sun-flowers, and nasturtiums trailing all over the turf walls and peeping in at the round windows.      'How bright your garden looks!' said Gandalf.      'Yes,' said Bilbo. I am very fond indeed of it, and of all the dear old Shire; but I think I need a holiday.'      'You mean to go on with your plan then?'      'I do. I made up my mind months ago, and I haven't changed it.'      'Very  well.  It is no good saying any  more. Stick to your plan - your whole plan, mind  - and I hope it will turn out for the best, for  you,  and for all of us.'      'I hope  so.  Anyway  I mean to enjoy  myself on Thursday, and  have my little joke.'      'Who will laugh, I wonder?' said Gandalf, shaking his head.      'We shall see,' said Bilbo.      The next day more carts rolled up the Hill, and still more carts. There might have  been  some grumbling about 'dealing locally', but that very week orders began to pour out of Bag End for every  kind of provision, commodity, or luxury  that  could be obtained in Hobbiton or Bywater or anywhere in the neighbourhood.  People  became enthusiastic; and they began to tick off  the days on  the calendar; and they watched eagerly for the  postman, hoping for invitations.      Before long  the  invitations  began  pouring  out,  and  the  Hobbiton post-office  was blocked, and the Bywater post-office  was snowed under, and voluntary assistant postmen were called for.  There was a constant stream of them going up the Hill, carrying hundreds of polite variations on Thank you, I shall certainly come.      A notice appeared on the gate at Bag End: NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS. Even those  who had, or  pretended  to  have  Party  Business were seldom allowed inside. Bilbo  was  busy:  writing invitations,  ticking  off answers, packing up presents, and making  some  private preparations  of his own. From the time of Gandalf's arrival he remained hidden from view.      One morning the hobbits woke to find the large field,  south of Bilbo's
  66. front door, covered with ropes and poles for tents  and pavilions. A special entrance  was cut into the bank leading to  the road, and wide steps  and  a large white gate were built there. The three hobbit-families of Bagshot Row, adjoining the field, were intensely  interested  and  generally envied.  Old Gaffer Gamgee stopped even pretending to work in his garden.      The tents began to  go up. There was a specially large pavilion, so big that the tree that grew in the  field was right inside it, and stood proudly near one end, at the head of  the chief table. Lanterns were hung on all its branches. More  promising still (to the hobbits' mind): an enormous open-air kitchen was erected in the  north corner of  the field. A draught  of cooks, from every inn and eating-house  for miles around, arrived to supplement the dwarves and other odd  folk  that were quartered at Bag End. Excitement rose to its height.      Then the weather  clouded  over.  That was on Wednesday the  eve of the Party.  Anxiety was  intense. Then Thursday,  September  the 22nd,  actually dawned. The sun got up, the clouds vanished, flags were unfurled and the fun began.      Bilbo  Baggins called it  a  party,  but it  was really  a  variety  of entertainments  rolled  into one.  Practically  everybody  living  near  was invited. A very few were overlooked  by accident, but  as they turned up all the same, that did not matter.  Many people  from other parts of  the  Shire were also asked; and there were even  a few from outside the  borders. Bilbo met the guests (and additions) at the new white gate in person. He gave away presents to all and sundry - the latter were  those  who went out again by a back way  and came  in  again by  the gate. Hobbits give  presents  to other people  on their own birthdays. Not very expensive ones, as a  rule, and not so lavishly  as on this  occasion; but it was  not a bad system. Actually in Hobbiton  and Bywater every  day in the year it was somebody's  birthday, so that every  hobbit  in those parts had a fair chance of at least one present at least once a week. But they never got tired of them.      On this occasion the presents were unusually  good. The hobbit-children were so excited that for a while they almost forgot about eating. There were toys the like  of which they had  never seen before, all beautiful and  some obviously magical.  Many of them had indeed been ordered a year before,  and had  come  all  the way  from  the Mountain and from Dale, and  were of real dwarf-make.      When  every guest had been  welcomed  and was finally inside the  gate,
  67. there were  songs, dances, music, games,  and,  of course,  food  and drink. There were  three  official  meals: lunch,  tea, and dinner (or supper). But lunch and  tea were marked chiefly by  the fact that at  those times all the guests  were sitting  down and eating together. At  other  times  there were merely lots  of  people  eating and drinking  -  continuously from elevenses until six-thirty, when the fireworks started.      The fireworks were by Gandalf: they were not only brought  by  him, but designed and made by  him; and the  special effects, set pieces, and flights of rockets were let off by him. But  there was  also a generous distribution of  squibs,  crackers,  backarappers,   sparklers,  torches,  dwarf-candles, elf-fountains, goblin-barkers  and thunder-claps. They  were all superb. The art of Gandalf improved with age.      There were  rockets like  a flight  of scintillating birds singing with sweet voices. There were green trees with trunks of dark smoke: their leaves opened like a whole spring unfolding in a moment, and their shining branches dropped glowing flowers down upon the  astonished hobbits, disappearing with a  sweet  scent just  before they touched  their  upturned faces. There were fountains  of butterflies that flew  glittering into  the trees;  there were pillars  of  coloured  fires that rose  and  turned into eagles, or  sailing ships,  or  a  phalanx of flying swans; there was a red  thunderstorm  and a shower  of  yellow  rain; there was a  forest  of silver spears  that sprang suddenly  into the  air with a  yell like an embattled  army, and came  down again into the Water with a hiss like a  hundred hot snakes.  And there  was also one last surprise,  in  honour of Bilbo,  and  it startled  the hobbits exceedingly, as  Gandalf intended. The lights went out. A great  smoke  went up. It shaped itself like a mountain seen in the distance, and began to glow at  the summit. It spouted green  and scarlet flames. Out flew a  red-golden dragon - not life-size, but terribly life-like: fire came from his jaws, his eyes glared down; there  was  a  roar, and he whizzed three  times  over the heads of the crowd. They all ducked, and  many fell flat on their faces. The dragon passed like an  express train,  turned a  somersault, and  burst over Bywater with a deafening explosion.      'That is  the  signal for  supper!'  said  Bilbo.  The  pain  and alarm vanished at once, and the prostrate hobbits leaped to their feet. There  was a splendid supper for everyone; for everyone, that  is, except those invited to the special family dinner-party. This was held in the great pavilion with the tree. The invitations were limited to twelve dozen (a number also called
  68. by the hobbits one Gross, though  the  word was not considered proper to use of people); and  the  guests were selected  from  all  the families to which Bilbo and Frodo were related, with  the addition of a  few special unrelated friends (such as Gandalf). Many young hobbits  were included, and present by parental permission; for hobbits were easy-going with their children in  the matter  of  sitting up late,  especially when there  was a chance of getting them a free meal. Bringing up young hobbits took a lot of provender.      There  were  many  Bagginses  and  Boffins,  and also  many  Tooks  and Brandybucks;  there  were  various  Grubbs   (relations  of  Bilbo  Baggins' grandmother), and various Chubbs (connexions of his Took grandfather); and a selection  of  Burrowses,  Bolgers, Bracegirdles,  Brockhouses,  Goodbodies, Hornblowers and Proudfoots. Some of these were only very distantly connected with Bilbo, and  some of them  had hardly ever  been in Hobbiton before,  as they lived in remote corners of the Shire. The Sackville-Bagginses  were not forgotten.  Otho and his wife Lobelia were present. They disliked Bilbo  and detested Frodo,  but  so magnificent  was the invitation  card,  written  in golden ink, that  they had felt it was impossible to refuse. Besides,  their cousin, Bilbo, had been specializing  in  food for many years and  his table had a high reputation.      All  the  one hundred  and forty-four guests expected a pleasant feast; though they  rather  dreaded  the  after-dinner  speech  of their  host  (an inevitable item). He was liable to drag  in bits of  what he  called poetry; and sometimes, after  a glass or two, would  allude to the absurd adventures of his mysterious journey. The guests were not disappointed: they had a very pleasant feast, in fact an engrossing entertainment: rich, abundant, varied, and prolonged. The  purchase of provisions fell almost to nothing throughout the district in the ensuing weeks; but as Bilbo's catering had  depleted the stocks of most stores, cellars and warehouses for miles around, that did not matter much.      After  the feast (more or less) came the  Speech. Most of  the  company were, however, now in a tolerant  mood, at that  delightful stage which they called 'filling up  the corners'.  They were sipping their favourite drinks, and nibbling at  their favourite  dainties, and their fears  were forgotten. They were prepared to listen to anything, and to cheer at every full stop.      My dear People, began Bilbo, rising in  his  place. 'Hear! Hear! Hear!' they shouted,  and  kept on repeating  it  in chorus,  seeming  reluctant to
  69. follow their own advice. Bilbo left  his place and went and stood on a chair under the illuminated  tree. The  light of the lanterns fell on his  beaming face; the golden buttons shone on his embroidered silk waistcoat. They could all see  him standing,  waving  one hand in  the air,  the other  was in his trouser-pocket.      My dear Bagginses and Boffins, he began again;  and my  dear  Tooks and Brandybucks, and Grubbs,  and  Chubbs,  and Burrowses,  and Hornblowers, and Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots.  'ProudFEET!' shouted  an  elderly  hobbit  from  the back  of the pavilion.  His name, of course, was  Proudfoot, and well merited; his feet were large, exceptionally furry, and both were on the table.      Proudfoots,  repeated Bilbo. Also my  good  Sackville-Bagginses that  I welcome  back at last  to  Bag  End. Today  is my  one  hundred and eleventh birthday: I am eleventy-one  today! 'Hurray!  Hurray! Many  Happy  Returns!' they  shouted, and they  hammered  joyously  on the tables.  Bilbo was doing splendidly. This was the sort of stuff they liked: short and obvious.      / hope you  are  all  enjoying yourselves as much as  I  am.  Deafening cheers. Cries  of  Yes  (and  No). Noises  of trumpets and horns, pipes  and flutes,  and  other musical instruments.  There were, as has been said, many young hobbits present. Hundreds of musical crackers had been pulled. Most of them bore the  mark DALE  on them; which did not  convey much to most of the hobbits, but they all agreed they were  marvellous crackers.  They contained instruments, small, but of perfect make and enchanting tones. Indeed, in one corner some of  the young Tooks and  Brandybucks, supposing Uncle  Bilbo  to have finished (since he had plainly said all that was necessary), now got up an impromptu orchestra, and began a  merry dance-tune.  Master  Everard Took and  Miss Melilot Brandybuck  got on a  table  and with bells in their hands began to dance the Springle-ring: a pretty dance, but rather vigorous.      But Bilbo had not finished. Seizing a horn from a youngster near by, he blew  three loud  hoots. The noise subsided. /  shall not keep you  long, he cried. Cheers from all the assembly. /  have called  you all  together for a Purpose. Something in  the way  that he said this made an impression.  There was almost silence, and one or two of the Tooks pricked up their ears.      Indeed,  for  Three  Purposes! First of  all,  to  tell  you that  I am
  70. immensely fond  of  you all, and that eleventy-one years is too short a time to live among such  excellent and  admirable hobbits. Tremendous outburst of approval.      / don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. This was unexpected and rather difficult. There  was some scattered clapping, but most of  them were trying to work it out and see if it came to a compliment.      Secondly,  to  celebrate my birthday.  Cheers again.  / should say: OUR birthday.  For it  is, of  course, also the birthday of my  heir and nephew, Frodo.  He comes  of  age  and into his inheritance today. Some  perfunctory clapping by the  elders;  and some loud  shouts of 'Frodo!  Frodo! Jolly old Frodo,' from the juniors. The Sackville-Bagginses scowled, and wondered what was  meant by 'coming  into his inheritance'. Together we score one  hundred and forty-four.  Your numbers were chosen to  fit this remarkable total: One Gross, if I may use the  expression. No cheers. This was ridiculous. Many of his guests, and especially  the Sackville-Bagginses, were insulted,  feeling sure they had only been asked to fill up the  required number, like goods in a package. 'One Gross, indeed! Vulgar expression.'      It is also,  if  I  may be  allowed to  refer to  ancient history,  the anniversary of my arrival by barrel at Esgaroth on the Long Lake; though the fact that it was my birthday slipped  my memory on that occasion. I was only fifty-one  then,  and birthdays did  not seem so important.  The banquet was very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and could only say 'thag you very  buch'. I now repeat  it more correctly: Thank you  very  much for coming  to my little party. Obstinate  silence. They all feared that  a song or some poetry was now imminent;  and they  were getting bored. Why couldn't he stop talking and let them drink his health? But Bilbo did not sing or recite. He paused for a moment.      Thirdly and finally, he said,  I wish to make an ANNOUNCEMENT. He spoke this last word so  loudly and suddenly that everyone sat up who still could. I regret to announce that - though, as I said, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to spend among you - this is the END. I am going. I  am leaving NOW. GOOD-BYE!      He stepped down and  vanished. There was a blinding flash of light, and the guests  all blinked. When they opened their eyes Bilbo was nowhere to be seen. One hundred  and forty-four flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless.
  71. Old  Odo Proudfoot  removed his feet from the table and stamped. Then  there was  a  dead  silence,  until  suddenly, after  several deep breaths,  every Baggins,  Boffin,   Took,   Brandybuck,   Grubb,  Chubb,  Burrows,   Bolger, Bracegirdle,  Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower, and  Proudfoot began to talk at once.      It  was generally agreed that the joke was  in very bad taste, and more food and drink were needed to cure the guests  of shock and annoyance. 'He's mad. I always said so,'  was probably  the  most  popular comment.  Even the Tooks (with a few exceptions) thought  Bilbo's behaviour was absurd. For the moment most of  them took it for granted that his disappearance was  nothing more than a ridiculous prank.      But old Rory Brandybuck was not  so sure. Neither age  nor an  enormous dinner  had clouded his wits, and he said to his daughter-in-law, Esmeralda: 'There's something fishy in this, my dear! I believe that mad Baggins is off again. Silly old fool. But why worry? He hasn't taken the vittles with him.' He called loudly to Frodo to send the wine round again.      Frodo  was the only one present who had said nothing. For some time  he had  sat silent  beside  Bilbo's  empty  chair,  and ignored all remarks and questions. He had enjoyed the  joke,  of course, even  though he had been in the  know. He had  difficulty  in  keeping  from  laughter at the  indignant surprise of  the guests.  But  at the  same time he felt deeply troubled: he realized  suddenly  that he loved the old hobbit  dearly. Most of the guests went on eating and drinking and discussing Bilbo Baggins' oddities, past and present;  but the Sackville-Bagginses had already  departed in wrath.  Frodo did not want to have any more  to do with the party. He gave orders for more wine to be served; then he got up and drained his own glass  silently to the health of Bilbo, and slipped out of the pavilion.      As for Bilbo Baggins,  even while he was making his speech, he had been fingering the golden ring  in his pocket:  his magic ring that he  had  kept secret for so many years. As he  stepped  down he slipped it on his  finger, and he was never seen by any hobbit in Hobbiton again.      He walked  briskly back to his hole, and stood  for a moment  listening with a smile to the din in  the pavilion and to the sounds of merrymaking in other parts  of the field. Then he  went in.  He took off his party clothes, folded up and wrapped  in tissue-paper his  embroidered  silk waistcoat, and put it away. Then he put on quickly  some old untidy  garments, and fastened
  72. round his  waist a  worn leather  belt.  On it  he  hung a short sword in  a battered  black-leather  scabbard.  From  a  locked  drawer,   smelling   of moth-balls, he took out an old cloak and hood. They had been locked up as if they were very precious, but they were  so  patched and weatherstained  that their  original  colour  could hardly be guessed: it might  have  been  dark green. They were rather too large for him. He then  went into his study, and from  a  large  strong-box  took out a bundle  wrapped in  old cloths, and a leather-bound  manuscript; and  also a large bulky  envelope.  The  book and bundle  he stuffed  into  the top  of a heavy  bag  that was standing there, already nearly full.  Into the envelope he slipped his  golden ring, and its fine chain, and then  sealed it, and addressed it  to Frodo. At first he put it  on the mantelpiece,  but  suddenly  he  removed it and  stuck  it in his pocket. At that moment the door opened and Gandalf came quickly in.      'Hullo!' said Bilbo. 'I wondered if you would turn up.'      'I am glad to find you visible,' replied the wizard, sitting down  in a chair, 'I wanted to catch you and have a few final words. I suppose you feel that everything has gone off splendidly and according to plan?'      'Yes,  I do,' said  Bilbo. "Though that flash was surprising: it  quite startled  me,  let alone the  others. A  little  addition  of  your  own,  I suppose?'      It was. You have  wisely kept that ring secret all these  years, and it seemed to me necessary to give your guests something else that would seem to explain your sudden vanishment.'      'And would spoil my joke. You are an interfering old busybody,' laughed Bilbo, 'but I expect you know best, as usual.'      'I do - when I  know  anything. But I  don't  feel too  sure about this whole affair. It has now come  to the  final point. You have had  your joke, and alarmed or offended most  of your relations, and  given the whole  Shire something to talk about for nine  days, or ninety-nine more  likely. Are you going any further?'      'Yes, I am. I feel  I  need a holiday, a very  long holiday, as I  have told  you before. Probably  a  permanent holiday:  I  don't expect  I  shall return. In fact, I don't mean to, and I have made all arrangements.      'I  am  old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart  of hearts.  Well-preserved indeed!' he snorted.  'Why, I feel  all thin, sort of stretched, if you  know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped  over too  much bread.  That can't  be right. I need  a  change,  or
  73. something.'      Gandalf  looked curiously  and closely at him.  'No,  it does not  seem right,' he said thoughtfully. 'No, after all I believe your plan is probably the best.'      'Well, I've made  up  my mind,  anyway. I  want to see mountains again, Gandalf, mountains, and then  find somewhere where I can  rest. In peace and quiet, without a lot  of relatives prying around, and a string of confounded visitors hanging on the bell.  I might find somewhere where I  can finish my book. I  have thought  of  a nice ending for it:  and he lived happily  ever after to the end of his days. '      Gandalf laughed. I hope he will. But nobody will read the book, however it ends.'      'Oh, they may, in years to come. Frodo has read some already, as far as it has gone. You'll keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?'      'Yes, I will - two eyes, as often as I can spare them.'      'He would come with  me, of  course, if I asked him. In fact he offered to once, just before the party. But he does not really want to, yet.  I want to  see  the  wild country again before I die, and  the Mountains; but he is still in love with the Shire, with woods and  fields  and  little rivers. He ought to  be comfortable here. I  am leaving everything  to him,  of course, except a few oddments. I  hope he will be happy,  when he gets used to being on his own. It's time he was his own master now.'      'Everything?' said Gandalf. 'The ring  as well? You agreed to that, you remember.'      'Well, er, yes, I suppose so,' stammered Bilbo.      'Where is it?'      'In an envelope, if you must know,'  said Bilbo impatiently. 'There  on the mantelpiece. Well,  no! Here it is in  my  pocket!' He hesitated. 'Isn't that odd now?'  he  said  softly  to himself. 'Yet after all,  why  not? Why shouldn't it stay there?'      Gandalf looked again very hard  at  Bilbo, and there was a gleam in his eyes.  'I think, Bilbo,' he said  quietly, 'I should leave  it behind. Don't you want to?'      'Well yes - and no. Now it comes to it, I don't like parting with it at all, I may say. And I don't really see why I should. Why do you want me to?' he asked, and a  curious  change came  over  his voice.  It  was sharp  with
  74. suspicion and annoyance. 'You are always badgering me about my ring; but you have never bothered me about the other things that I got on my journey.'      'No, but I had to  badger  you,'  said Gandalf. 'I wanted the truth. It was  important. Magic  rings  are  - well, magical; and  they are  rare  and curious. I was  professionally interested in  your ring, you may say;  and I still am. I should like to know where it is, if you go wandering again. Also I  think you  have had  it quite long  enough. You won't need it  any  more. Bilbo, unless I am quite mistaken.'      Bilbo  flushed, and there  was an angry light in  his eyes.  His kindly face  grew hard. 'Why  not?'  he  cried. 'And what business is it of  yours, anyway, to know what I  do with my own things? It is my own. I found  it. It came to me.'      'Yes, yes,' said Gandalf. 'But there is no need to get angry.'      'If I am  it  is your  fault,' said Bilbo. 'It is mine, I  tell you. My own. My precious. Yes, my precious.'      The wizard's face remained grave and attentive,  and  only a flicker in his deep eyes showed that he  was startled and indeed  alarmed. 'It has been called that before,' he said, 'but not by you.'      'But I say it now. And why not? Even if Gollum said the same once. It's not his now, but mine. And I shall keep it, I say.'      Gandalf stood  up. He  spoke  sternly. 'You will be  a fool if  you do. Bilbo,' he said. 'You make that clearer with every word you say. It has  got far  too much  hold on you. Let it go! And then you can go yourself, and  be free.'      'I'll do as I choose and go as I please,' said Bilbo obstinately.      'Now, now, my dear hobbit!  ' said Gandalf. 'All your long life we have been  friends, and you owe me something. Come!  Do as you promised: give  it up! '      'Well,  if  you  want my ring yourself, say  so!' cried Bilbo. 'But you won't get it.  I won't give my precious away, I tell  you.' His hand strayed to the hilt of his small sword.      Gandalf's eyes flashed. It will be my turn to get angry soon,' he said. If  you  say  that again,  I shall.  Then  you  will  see Gandalf  the  Grey uncloaked.'  He took a step towards the hobbit,  and he seemed to  grow tall and menacing; his shadow filled the little room.      Bilbo backed away  to the  wall, breathing hard, his hand  clutching at
  75. his pocket. They stood for a while facing one another,  and the  air of  the room tingled. Gandalf's  eyes remained bent on the hobbit. Slowly  his hands relaxed, and he began to tremble.      'I  don't know  what has  come  over  you, Gandalf,' he said. 'You have never been like this  before. What is it all  about? It is mine isn't it?  I found it, and Gollum would  have killed  me, if I hadn't kept it. I'm not  a thief, whatever he said.'      'I have  never called  you  one,' Gandalf answered. 'And  I  am not one either. I am not trying to rob you,  but to help you. I wish you would trust me,  as  you  used.' He turned  away, and the  shadow  passed. He  seemed to dwindle again to an old grey man, bent and troubled.      Bilbo drew his hand over his eyes. I am sorry,' he said. 'But I felt so queer.  And yet it would be a relief in a way not to be bothered with it any more. It has been so growing on my mind lately. Sometimes I have felt it was like an eye  looking at me.  And  I  am  always  wanting  to put it  on  and disappear, don't you know; or wondering if it is safe, and pulling it out to make sure. I tried locking it up, but  I found I couldn't rest without it in my pocket. I don't know why. And I don't seem able to make up my mind.'      'Then  trust mine,'  said Gandalf. 'It is quite  made  up.  Go away and leave it behind. Stop possessing it. Give it to Frodo, and I will look after him.'      Bilbo stood for a moment tense and undecided. Presently he sighed. 'All right,' he said with an effort. I will.' Then he shrugged his shoulders, and smiled rather ruefully. 'After  all that's what this party business  was all about, really: to  give away lots of birthday presents,  and somehow make it easier to give it away at the same time. It hasn't made it any easier in the end, but it would be  a pity  to waste  all my  preparations. It would quite spoil the joke.'      'Indeed  it would take  away the only point I ever saw in the  affair,' said Gandalf.      'Very well,' said Bilbo, 'it goes to Frodo  with all the rest.' He drew a  deep breath. 'And  now I  really must be starting, or somebody else  will catch  me.  I  have  said good-bye, and I couldn't bear  to  do it  all over again.' He picked up his bag and moved to the door.      'You  have  still got the ring in your pocket,' said the wizard. 'Well, so I have!' cried Bilbo. 'And my will and  all  the other documents too. You had better take it and deliver it for me. That will be safest.'
  76.      'No,  don't give  the  ring  to  me,'  said  Gandalf. 'Put  it  on  the mantelpiece. It will be safe enough  there, till Frodo comes.  I  shall wait for him.'      Bilbo took out the envelope, but just as  he was about to set it by the clock, his hand jerked back, and the  packet fell  on  the floor.  Before he could pick it up, the wizard stooped and seized it and  set it in its place. A spasm  of anger passed swiftly over  the hobbit's  face again. Suddenly it gave way to a look of relief and a laugh. 'Well, that's that,' he said. 'Now I'm off!'      They went out into the hall.  Bilbo chose  his favourite stick from the stand; then he  whistled.  Three  dwarves came out of  different rooms where they had been busy.      'Is everything ready?' asked Bilbo. 'Everything packed and labelled?'      'Everything,' they answered.      'Well, let's start then!' He stepped out of the front-door.      It was a fine night, and the black sky was dotted with stars. He looked up,  sniffing  the air. 'What fun! What fun to be off again, off on the Road with dwarves!  This  is  what  I  have  really  been longing for, for years! Good-bye!  ' he said, looking  at  his old  home and  bowing  to  the  door. 'Good-bye, Gandalf!'      'Good-bye, for the present,  Bilbo. Take  care of yourself! You are old enough, and perhaps wise enough.'      'Take care! I  don't care. Don't  you worry about me! I am as happy now as I have ever been, and that is saying a great deal. But the time has come. I am being swept off my feet at last,' he added, and then in a low voice, as if to himself, he sang softly in the dark:      The Road goes ever on and on      Down from the door where it began.      Now far ahead the Road has gone,      And I must follow, if I can,      Pursuing it with eager feet,      Until it joins some larger way      Where many paths and errands meet.      And whither then? I cannot say.      He  paused, silent for a moment.  Then without another  word he  turned away from the lights and voices in the fields and tents, and followed by his three  companions  went round  into  his garden,  and trotted  down the long
  77. sloping path. He  jumped over  a low place in the hedge  at the bottom,  and took to the meadows, passing into the night like a  rustle  of wind  in  the grass.      Gandalf  remained for a  while  staring  after  him  into the darkness. 'Goodbye,  my dear Bilbo  - until our next meeting!' he said softly and went back indoors.      Frodo came  in soon afterwards, and found him sitting in the dark, deep in thought. 'Has he gone?' he asked.      'Yes,' answered Gandalf, 'he has gone at last.'      ' I wish - I mean, I hoped until this evening that it was only a joke,' said Frodo. 'But I knew in my heart  that he  really  meant to go. He always used to  joke about serious things. I  wish  I had come back sooner, just to see him off.'      I  think really  he preferred slipping off quietly  in the  end,'  said Gandalf. 'Don't be too troubled. He'll be all right -  now. He left a packet for you. There it is!'      Frodo  took the envelope from the mantelpiece, and  glanced  at it, but did not open it.      'You'll find  his  will and all the other documents in there, I think,' said  the  wizard.  'You  are  the master of Bag End now. And also, I fancy, you'll find a golden ring.'      'The ring!' exclaimed Frodo. 'Has he left me that? I wonder why. Still, it may be useful.'      'It may, and it  may  not,' said Gandalf. 'I should not make use of it, if I were you. But keep it secret, and keep it safe! Now I am going to bed.'      As master of Bag End Frodo felt  it his painful duty to say good-bye to the guests. Rumours of strange events had by  now spread all over the field, but  Frodo would  only say  no doubt everything will be  cleared  up  in the morning.  About  midnight carriages  came for the important folk. One by one they rolled away, filled with full but  very  unsatisfied hobbits. Gardeners came   by  arrangement,   and  removed  in  wheel-barrows  those   that  had inadvertently remained behind.      Night slowly  passed.  The  sun  rose. The  hobbits rose  rather later. Morning  went  on.  People  came  and began (by  orders) to  clear away  the pavilions  and the  tables  and the chairs,  and the  spoons and  knives and bottles and plates, and the lanterns, and the flowering shrubs in boxes, and the  crumbs  and   cracker-paper,  the  forgotten   bags  and   gloves   and
  78. handkerchiefs,  and  the uneaten food (a very small  item). Then a number of other people came (without orders): Bagginses, and Boffins, and Bolgers, and Tooks, and other  guests that lived or  were staying near.  By mid-day, when even the best-fed were out and about again,  there  was a large crowd at Bag End, uninvited but not unexpected.      Frodo  was waiting on the step, smiling, but  looking rather  tired and worried. He welcomed all  the callers,  but he had not much more to say than before. His reply to all inquiries  was simply this: 'Mr. Bilbo  Baggins has gone away; as far as I know, for good.'  Some of  the visitors he invited to come inside, as Bilbo had left 'messages' for them.      Inside in the  hall there  was piled a large assortment of packages and parcels and small articles  of furniture.  On  every item there was  a label tied. There were several labels of this sort:      For ADELARD TOOK, for his VERY OWN, from Bilbo, on an umbrella. Adelard had carried off many unlabelled ones.      For  DORA BAGGINS in  memory  of  a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo, on a large waste-paper basket. Dora was Drogo's sister and the eldest surviving female  relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine,  and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century.      For  MILO BURROWS,  hoping it will be  useful, from B.B., on a gold pen and ink-bottle. Milo never answered letters.      For ANGELICA'S use, from Uncle Bilbo, on a round convex mirror. She was a young Baggins, and too obviously considered her face shapely.      For  the  collection  of HUGO BRACEGIRDLE,  from a  contributor,  on an (empty) book-case. Hugo was a great borrower of books, and worse than  usual at returning them.      For LOBELIA SACKVILLE-BAGGINS,  as  a PRESENT,  on  a  case  of  silver spoons. Bilbo  believed that  she had  acquired a good  many of  his spoons, while he was away  on his former journey. Lobelia knew that quite well. When she arrived later in the day, she took the point  at once, but she also took the spoons.      This  is  only  a  small  selection of  the assembled presents. Bilbo's residence had got rather cluttered up  with things in the course of his long
  79. life.  It was a  tendency of hobbit-holes to get cluttered up: for which the custom of giving so many birthday-presents was largely responsible.  Not, of course,  that the  birthday-presents  were always new, there were one or two old mathoms  of forgotten uses that had circulated all around  the district; but Bilbo had usually given new presents, and  kept  those that he received. The old hole was now being cleared a little.      Every  one  of  the various  parting  gifts  had  labels,  written  out personally  by Bilbo,  and several had some point,  or  some  joke.  But, of course,  most  of the  things were  given where  they  would  be  wanted and welcome. The  poorer hobbits, and especially  those of Bagshot Row, did very well. Old Gaffer  Gamgee got  two sacks of potatoes, a new spade, a  woollen waistcoat,  and  a   bottle  of  ointment  for  creaking  joints.  Old  Rory Brandybuck,  in  return  for  much  hospitality, got a dozen  bottles of Old Winyards: a strong red wine from the Southfarthing, and now quite mature, as it had been laid down by Bilbo's father. Rory quite forgave Bilbo, and voted him a capital fellow after the first bottle.      There was plenty of everything left for Frodo.  And, of course, all the chief  treasures, as well  as  the  books,  pictures, and  more than  enough furniture,  were  left  in his possession. There was,  however, no sign  nor mention of money or jewellery: not a  penny-piece or  a glass bead was given away.      Frodo had a  very  trying time that afternoon. A false rumour  that the whole household was being distributed free spread like wildfire; and  before long  the place was packed with  people who had no business there, but could not be kept out. Labels got torn off and mixed, and quarrels broke out. Some people tried to do swaps and deals in the hall; and others tried to make off with minor  items not  addressed to  them,  or  with  anything  that  seemed unwanted  or unwatched.  The road to the gate  was blocked  with barrows and handcarts.      In the middle of  the  commotion the Sackville-Bagginses arrived. Frodo had retired for a while and left his  friend Merry Brandybuck to keep an eye on things. When Otho loudly demanded to see Frodo, Merry bowed politely.      'He is indisposed,' he said. 'He is resting.'      'Hiding, you mean,'  said  Lobelia. 'Anyway we want  to see him and  we mean to see him. Just go and tell him so!'      Merry left them a long while in the hall, and they had time to discover their parting gift  of spoons. It did  not improve their tempers. Eventually
  80. they were shown into the study. Frodo was sitting at a  table with a lot  of papers in front of him. He looked indisposed - to see Sackville-Bagginses at any  rate;  and he stood up,  fidgeting with something in his pocket. But he spoke quite politely.      The Sackville-Bagginses were  rather offensive. They began  by offering him  bad  bargain-prices  (as between  friends)  for  various  valuable  and unlabelled  things.  When  Frodo  replied  that  only  the  things specially directed by Bilbo were being given away, they said the whole affair was very fishy.      'Only one thing  is clear to me,' said Otho, 'and that  is that you are doing exceedingly well out of it. I insist on seeing the will.'      Otho would  have been Bilbo's heir, but for  the  adoption of Frodo. He read the will carefully and  snorted. It was,  unfortunately, very clear and correct (according to the legal customs of hobbits, which demand among other things seven signatures of witnesses in red ink).      'Foiled again!' he said  to his  wife. 'And after waiting sixty  years. Spoons? Fiddlesticks!' He snapped his fingers under Frodo's nose and slumped off. But Lobelia was not so easily got rid of. A little later Frodo came out of the study  to see how things were going  on and found her still about the place, investigating nooks  and comers and  tapping the  floors. He escorted her firmly off the premises, after he had relieved her of several small (but rather valuable) articles that had somehow fallen inside  her umbrella.  Her face looked as if  she was in the throes of thinking out a  really  crushing parting remark; but all she found to say, turning round on the step, was:      'You'll live to regret  it, young  fellow! Why  didn't you  go too? You don't belong here; you're no Baggins - you - you're a Brandybuck!'      'Did you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like,' said Frodo as he shut the door on her.      'It was a compliment,' said Merry  Brandybuck, 'and so, of  course, not true.'      Then they went  round the hole,  and  evicted three  young hobbits (two Boffins and a Bolger) who were knocking  holes  in the  walls  of one of the cellars.  Frodo  also had a  tussle  with young Sancho  Proudfoot  (old  Odo Proudfoot's  grandson),  who had  begun an  excavation in the larger pantry, where  he thought there was an echo. The legend of Bilbo's gold excited both curiosity  and  hope;  for legendary  gold  (mysteriously obtained,  if  not positively ill-gotten), is, as every  one  knows, any one's for the  finding
  81. -unless the search is interrupted.      When he had overcome  Sancho and  pushed him out, Frodo  collapsed on a chair in the hall. It's time to  close the shop, Merry,'  he said. 'Lock the door, and don't open it to anyone today,  not even if they bring a battering ram.' Then he went to revive himself with a belated cup of tea.      He had hardly sat down, when there came a soft knock at the front-door. 'Lobelia again most likely,' he thought. 'She must have thought of something really nasty, and have come back again to say it. It can wait.'      He went on  with his tea.  The knock was repeated,  much louder, but he took no notice. Suddenly the wizard's head appeared at the window.      'If you don't let me in, Frodo, I  shall blow your door right down your hole and out through the hill,' he said.      'My dear Gandalf! Half a  minute!' cried Frodo, running out of the room to the door. 'Come in! Come in! I thought it was Lobelia.'      'Then I  forgive you.  But I saw her some time ago, driving a pony-trap towards Bywater with a face that would have curdled new milk.'      'She had already nearly curdled me. Honestly, I nearly tried on Bilbo's ring. I longed to disappear.'      'Don't do that!'  said  Gandalf, sitting down. 'Do be  careful of  that ring, Frodo! In fact, it is partly about that that I have come to say a last word.'      'Well, what about it?'      'What do you know already?'      'Only  what Bilbo told me. I have heard his story: how he found it, and how he used it: on his journey, I mean.'      'Which story, I wonder,' said Gandalf.      'Oh, not what he told the dwarves and put in his book,' said Frodo. 'He told me  the  true story  soon after I  came to live here.  He said  you had pestered him till he told you, so I had better know too. "No secrets between us,  Frodo,"  he  said;  "but  they are not  to go  any  further. It's  mine anyway."'      'That's interesting,' said Gandalf.  'Well,  what did  you  think of it all?'      'If you mean, inventing all that about a "present", well, I thought the true story much more likely, and I  couldn't see the point of altering it at all. It was very  unlike Bilbo to do  so,  anyway; and I thought  it  rather odd.'
  82.      'So did I. But odd things may happen to people that have such treasures - if  they use them. Let it be a warning to you to be very careful  with it. It may have other powers than just making you vanish when you wish to.'      'I don't understand,' said Frodo.      'Neither do I,'  answered  the wizard. 'I have  merely begun  to wonder about the ring,  especially since last night. No need to worry.  But if  you take my  advice you will use it very  seldom, or not at  all. At least I beg you not  to use it in any way that will cause talk or rouse suspicion. I say again: keep it safe, and keep it secret!'      'You are very mysterious! What are you afraid of?'      'I am not certain, so I  will say no  more. I may  be able to  tell you something  when I come back. I am going off at once: so this is good-bye for the present.' He got up.      'At  once!' cried Frodo.  'Why,  I thought  you were staying  on for at least a week. I was looking forward to your help.'      'I did mean to - but I have had to change my mind. I  may be away for a good while;  but  I'll come and see you again, as soon  as I  can. Expect me when you see me! I shall  slip in quietly.  I  shan't often be visiting  the Shire openly again.  I find that I have become rather unpopular. They  say I am a  nuisance  and  a  disturber  of the  peace. Some people  are  actually accusing me of spiriting Bilbo away, or worse. If you want to know, there is supposed to be a plot between you and me to get hold of his wealth.'      'Some  people!'  exclaimed Frodo.  'You  mean  Otho  and  Lobelia.  How abominable!  I would give  them Bag  End and everything else, if I could get Bilbo back  and go off tramping in the country with  him. I  love the Shire. But I begin to  wish, somehow, that I had gone too. I wonder if I shall ever see him again.'      'So do I,' said Gandalf. 'And I wonder many other things. Good-bye now! Take  care  of  yourself!  Look out  for  me, especially at  unlikely times! Good-bye!'      Frodo saw him to the door. He gave a final wave of his hand, and walked off at a surprising pace; but Frodo  thought the old wizard looked unusually bent, almost  as if  he was carrying a great weight. The evening was closing in, and his cloaked figure quickly vanished into the twilight. Frodo did not see him again for a long time.
  83.  
  84.  
  85. Chapter 2. The Shadow of the Past
  86.  
  87.  
  88.      The talk did not die down in nine  or even ninety-nine days. The second disappearance of Mr. Bilbo Baggins was discussed in Hobbiton, and indeed all over the Shire,  for a year  and a day,  and was remembered much longer than that.  It became  a fireside-story for  young  hobbits;  and eventually  Mad Baggins,  who used to vanish with a  bang and a flash and reappear with bags of jewels and gold, became a favourite character of legend and lived on long after all the true events were forgotten.      But in the meantime, the general opinion in the  neighbourhood was that Bilbo, who  had always been rather cracked, had at  last gone quite mad, and had run off into the Blue. There he had  undoubtedly fallen into a pool or a river and  come to a tragic,  but  hardly an  untimely, end.  The blame  was mostly laid on Gandalf.      'If only that  dratted  wizard will leave young  Frodo  alone,  perhaps he'll  settle  down  and  grow some  hobbit-sense,'  they said. And  to  all appearance the wizard did leave Frodo alone, and he did settle down, but the growth of hobbit-sense was not very noticeable. Indeed, he at once  began to carry on Bilbo's reputation for oddity. He  refused to go into mourning; and the next  year  he gave a party  in  honour of  Bilbo's  hundred-and-twelfth birthday, which he  called Hundred-weight Feast. But that was  short  of the mark, for twenty guests were invited  and  there were several meals at which it snowed food and rained drink, as hobbits say.      Some people were rather shocked; but Frodo kept up the custom of giving Bilbo's  Birthday Party year after year  until  they got used to it. He said that he did not think Bilbo  was dead. When  they asked: 'Where is he then?' he shrugged his shoulders.      He lived  alone, as Bilbo had done; but he  had  a  good  many friends, especially among  the younger hobbits  (mostly descendants  of the Old Took) who  had  as children been fond of  Bilbo  and often in and out of Bag  End. Folco Boffin and Fredegar  Bolger were two of these; but his closest friends were Peregrin Took (usually called Pippin),  and Merry Brandybuck  (his real name was Meriadoc, but  that was seldom remembered). Frodo went tramping all over  the Shire with them; but more often he wandered by himself, and to the amazement of  sensible folk he was sometimes  seen far  from home walking in
  89. the hills and woods under the starlight.  Merry and Pippin suspected that he visited the Elves at times, as Bilbo had done.      As time went on, people began to notice that Frodo also showed signs of good 'preservation':  outwardly he retained the appearance  of a  robust and energetic hobbit just out of his tweens. 'Some folk have all the luck,' they said;  but it was not until Frodo approached the  usually more  sober age of fifty that they began to think it queer.      Frodo himself, after the first shock, found  that being his  own master and the Mr. Baggins of Bag End  was rather  pleasant. For some  years he was quite  happy and did not  worry much about the  future. But half unknown  to himself the regret that he had not gone with Bilbo was  steadily growing. He found himself  wondering at times,  especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams. He began to say to himself: 'Perhaps I shall cross the  River myself one day.' To which the other half of his mind always replied: 'Not yet.'      So it  went on,  until his forties were  running  out, and his fiftieth birthday  was  drawing  near:  fifty  was a number  that he felt was somehow significant (or ominous); it was at any  rate at that age that adventure had suddenly  befallen  Bilbo. Frodo began to feel  restless, and the  old paths seemed too well-trodden. He  looked at maps, and  wondered  what lay  beyond their edges: maps made  in the Shire showed  mostly  white spaces beyond its borders.  He took to wandering further afield and more often by himself; and Merry and his other friends watched him anxiously. Often he was seen walking and talking with the strange  wayfarers that began at this time to appear in the Shire.      There were rumours of  strange things happening in the  world  outside; and as Gandalf had not at that time appeared or sent any message for several years, Frodo gathered all the news he could. Elves, who seldom walked in the Shire, could  now be seen passing westward through the woods in the evening, passing and  not returning; but they were leaving Middle-earth and  were  no longer concerned with its troubles. There were, however, dwarves on the road in  unusual numbers. The ancient East-West Road ran through the Shire to its end at the Grey Havens, and dwarves had always used it on their way to their mines in the Blue Mountains. They  were the  hobbits' chief  source of  news from distant parts - if they  wanted any: as a rule  dwarves said little and hobbits  asked  no  more.  But now Frodo  often met strange dwarves  of  far countries, seeking refuge in the West. They were troubled, and some spoke in
  90. whispers of the Enemy and of the Land of Mordor.      That name  the hobbits  only knew in legends  of the  dark past, like a shadow  in  the  background  of their  memories;  but  it  was  ominous  and disquieting. It seemed that the  evil power in Mirkwood had been  driven out by the White Council  only  to  reappear  in  greater  strength  in the  old strongholds of Mordor. The  Dark Tower had been rebuilt,  it was  said. From there the  power was spreading far and  wide,  and away far  east  and south there were  wars and  growing  fear.  Orcs were  multiplying  again  in  the mountains. Trolls were abroad, no longer dull-witted, but  cunning and armed with  dreadful  weapons.  And there  were  murmured  hints of creatures more terrible than all these, but they had no name.      Little of all this,  of  course, reached the ears of  ordinary hobbits. But  even the deafest  and most stay-at-home began to hear queer  tales; and those whose business  took  them  to  the  borders  saw strange  things. The conversation in The  Green Dragon at Bywater,  one evening in the spring  of Frodo's  fiftieth year,  showed that  even in the comfortable  heart of  the Shire rumours had been heard, though most hobbits still laughed at them.      Sam Gamgee was sitting in one  corner near the fire,  and opposite  him was Ted  Sandyman, the  miller's son;  and there  were various  other rustic hobbits listening to their talk.      'Queer things you do hear these days, to be sure,' said Sam.      'Ah,'  said  Ted, 'you do, if you listen. But I can hear fireside-tales and children's stories at home, if I want to.'      'No doubt you can,' retorted Sam, 'and I daresay  there's more truth in some of them than you reckon.  Who invented the stories anyway? Take dragons now.'      'No thank 'ee,' said  Ted, 'I won't.  I heard tell of them when I was a youngster, but there's no  call to  believe in  them  now. There's  only one Dragon in Bywater, and that's Green,' he said, getting a general laugh.      'All  right,' said  Sam, laughing with the rest. 'But  what about these Tree-men, these giants, as you might call  them? They do say that one bigger than a tree was seen up away beyond the North Moors not long back.'      'Who's they?'      'My cousin Hal for one. He works for Mr. Boffin at Overhill and goes up to the Northfarthing for the hunting. He saw one.'      'Says he did, perhaps. Your Hal's always saying  he's seen  things; and
  91. maybe he sees things that ain't there.'      'But  this  one was as big  as an elm tree, and walking - walking seven yards to a stride, if it was an inch.'      'Then I bet it wasn't an inch. What he saw was an elm  tree, as like as not.'      'But this one was  walking, I tell you; and there  ain't no elm tree on the North Moors.'      'Then Hal can't have  seen one,' said Ted. There  was some laughing and clapping: the audience seemed to think that Ted had scored a point.      'All  the same,'  said  Sam,  'you can't deny  that others besides  our Halfast have seen  queer  folk crossing the  Shire - crossing  it, mind you: there are more that are turned back at the borders. The Bounders  have never been so busy before.      'And I've heard tell  that Elves are moving west. They do  say they are going to the harbours, out away beyond the  White Towers.' Sam waved his arm vaguely: neither he nor any of them knew how far it was to the Sea, past the old towers  beyond  the western borders  of the  Shire. But  it was  an  old tradition that  away over  there stood the Grey  Havens, from which at times elven-ships set sail, never to return.      'They are sailing,  sailing, sailing over the Sea,  they are going into the West  and  leaving us,' said  Sam, half chanting the words, shaking  his head sadly and solemnly. But Ted laughed.      'Well,  that isn't anything  new, if you believe the  old tales.  And I don't see  what it matters to me or you.  Let  them sail!  But I warrant you haven't seen them doing it; nor any one else in the Shire.'      'Well I don't  know,' said Sam  thoughtfully. He believed he  had  once seen an Elf in the  woods, and still hoped to  see more one  day. Of all the legends  that he had heard in his  early  years such fragments of tales  and half-remembered  stories  about  the Elves as the hobbits knew,  had  always moved him  most deeply. 'There  are some,  even in these parts, as  know the Fair Folk and get news  of them,'  he said. 'There's Mr. Baggins now, that I work for. He told me  that they were sailing and he knows a bit about Elves. And old Mr. Bilbo knew more:  many's the  talk I had with  him  when I was a little lad.'      'Oh, they're both cracked,' said Ted. 'Leastways old Bilbo was cracked, and Frodo's cracking. If that's where  you get your news from, you'll  never
  92. want for moonshine. Well,  friends,  I'm  off home.  Your  good  health!' He drained his mug and went out noisily.      Sam sat silent and said no more. He had a good deal to think about. For one thing, there was a lot to do up in the Bag End garden, and he would have a busy day tomorrow, if the weather cleared. The grass was growing fast. But Sam had more on his mind than gardening. After a while he sighed, and got up and went out.      It was  early April and the sky was now clearing after  heavy rain. The sun was down,  and  a cool  pale evening was quietly fading  into night.  He walked  home  under  the  early stars  through  Hobbiton and  up  the  Hill, whistling softly and thoughtfully.      It  was  just at  this  time that  Gandalf  reappeared  after his  long absence. For three years  after  the Party he had  been away.  Then he  paid Frodo a brief visit,  and after taking a good look at him he went off again. During  the  next  year  or  two  he  had  turned  up  fairly often,  coming unexpectedly  after  dusk, and going off without warning before sunrise.  He would  not  discuss  his  own  business  and  journeys, and  seemed  chiefly interested in small news about Frodo's health and doings.      Then suddenly his visits had ceased. It was over nine years since Frodo had seen or heard of him, and  he had begun  to think that  the wizard would never return and  had given up all interest in hobbits. But that evening, as Sam was walking home  and twilight was fading, there came the once  familiar tap on the study window.      Frodo welcomed  his old friend with  surprise  and great delight.  They looked hard at one another.      'Ah well eh?' said Gandalf. 'You look the same as ever, Frodo!'      'So do you,' Frodo replied; but secretly he thought that Gandalf looked older and  more careworn. He pressed him for news of himself and of the wide world, and  soon they were  deep in talk, and  they stayed  up far into  the night.      Next morning after a late breakfast, the  wizard was sitting with Frodo by the open  window of the  study. A bright fire was on the hearth,  but the sun was warm, and  the  wind was in the  South. Everything looked fresh, and the new green of Spring  was shimmering in the fields and on the tips of the trees' fingers.      Gandalf  was thinking of  a  spring,  nearly  eighty years before, when Bilbo  had run out  of Bag End without  a handkerchief. His hair was perhaps
  93. whiter  than it  had  been  then,  and his  beard  and eyebrows were perhaps longer, and  his face more lined with care and  wisdom; but his eyes were as bright as ever, and he smoked and blew smoke-rings with the same vigour  and delight.      He was  smoking  now in  silence, for  Frodo was sitting still, deep in thought. Even in the light of morning he felt the dark shadow of the tidings that Gandalf had brought. At last he broke the silence.      'Last  night  you  began to  tell  me  strange  things  about  my ring, Gandalf,' he said. 'And then you stopped, because you said that such matters were best left until  daylight. Don't you think  you  had better finish now? You  say the ring  is dangerous,  far more  dangerous than  I guess. In what way?'      'In many  ways,' answered  the wizard. It is far  more powerful than  I ever dared to think at first, so powerful that in the  end it  would utterly overcome anyone of mortal race who possessed it. It would possess him.      'In Eregion long  ago many Elven-rings  were made,  magic  rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various  kinds: some more potent and some  less.  The lesser rings were only essays  in the craft before  it  was full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but  trifles - yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals. But  the Great Rings,  the Rings of Power,  they were perilous.      'A  mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great  Rings, does not die, but he does not  grow  or obtain more life, he merely continues, until  at  last every minute is a weariness. And if he often  uses the Ring  to make himself invisible,  he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks in the twilight under the eye of the  dark power that rules the Rings.  Yes, sooner or  later - later, if he is strong or well-meaning to begin with, but neither strength nor good purpose will last - sooner or later the dark power will devour him.'      'How terrifying!' said Frodo. There was another long silence. The sound of Sam Gamgee cutting the lawn came in from the garden.      'How long have you  known this?'  asked Frodo  at length. 'And how much did Bilbo know?'      'Bilbo knew no  more than he told you, I  am  sure,' said Gandalf.  'He would certainly never have  passed on  to you anything that he thought would be a danger, even though I  promised to  look after you. He thought the ring was very beautiful, and very  useful at  need;  and if anything was wrong or
  94. queer, it was himself. He said that it was "growing on his mind", and he was always worrying about it; but he did not suspect that the ring itself was to blame.  Though he had found out that  the thing needed looking after; it did not seem always of the same size or weight; it shrank or expanded  in an odd way, and might suddenly slip off a finger where it had been tight.'      'Yes, he warned me of that in his last letter,' said Frodo,  'so I have always kept it on its chain.'      'Very wise,'  said Gandalf.  'But  as for  his long life,  Bilbo  never connected  it  with the  ring  at all. He took  all  the credit  for that to himself,  and he was very  proud of  it. Though  he was getting restless and uneasy.  Thin and  stretched  he  said. A  sign  that  the  ring was getting control.'      'How long have you known all this?' asked Frodo again.      'Known?'  said  Gandalf.  'I  have known  much that only the Wise know, Frodo. But  if you mean "known about this ring", well,  I still do not know, one might say. There is a last test to make. But I no longer doubt my guess.      'When did I first begin to guess?' he mused, searching back  in memory. 'Let me see - it was in the year that the White Council drove the dark power from Mirkwood,  just before the Battle of Five  Armies, that Bilbo found his ring.  A  shadow  fell on my  heart then, though  I did not know  yet what I feared. I wondered often how Gollum came  by a Great Ring, as plainly it was - that at least was clear from the first. Then I heard Bilbo's strange story of how he had "won" it, and I  could not believe it. When I at last  got the truth out of him,  I saw at once that he had been trying to put his claim to the  ring beyond  doubt. Much like Gollum  with his "birthday  present". The lies were too much alike for my comfort. Clearly the ring had an unwholesome power  that  set to  work on  its keeper at once.  That was the  first  real warning I had that all was not well. I told Bilbo often that such rings were better left unused; but he resented it, and soon got angry. There was little else that I could  do.  I could not take it  from him without doing  greater harm; and  I had no right to  do so anyway. I could only watch  and wait.  I might perhaps have consulted Saruman the White, but something always held me back.'      'Who is he?' asked Frodo. I have never heard of him before.'      'Maybe  not,' answered Gandalf. 'Hobbits  are, or were,  no concern  of his. Yet he is great among the Wise.  He  is the  chief of  my order and the
  95. head of the Council. His knowledge is deep, but his pride has grown with it, and he takes ill any meddling. The lore of the Elven-rings, great and small, is  his province. He  has long studied it, seeking the lost secrets of their making; but when the  Rings  were debated  in the Council, all that he would reveal to us of his ring-lore told against my fears. So my doubt slept - but uneasily. Still I watched and I waited.      'And all  seemed well  with  Bilbo. And  the  years  passed. Yes,  they passed, and  they seemed  not to touch him.  He showed no signs of age.  The shadow fell  on me  again. But I said  to  myself: "After all he comes of  a long-lived family on his mother's side. There is time yet. Wait!"      'And  I waited.  Until  that night when he left this house. He said and did things then that  filled me with a  fear that no words  of Saruman could allay. I knew at last that something dark and deadly was at work. And I have spent most of the years since then in finding out the truth of it.'      'There  wasn't  any  permanent  harm  done,  was  there?'  asked  Frodo anxiously. 'He would  get all right in time, wouldn't he? Be able to rest in peace, I mean?'      'He felt better at once,' said Gandalf. 'But there is only one Power in this world that knows all about the Rings and their effects; and as far as I know there is no Power  in the world that knows all about hobbits. Among the Wise I  am  the only one that goes in for hobbit-lore: an obscure branch  of knowledge, but  full  of surprises.  Soft as  butter  they  can be,  and yet sometimes as tough as old  tree-roots.  I  think it likely  that  some would resist the  Rings far longer  than most of the Wise  would believe.  I don't think you need worry about Bilbo.      'Of  course, he possessed the ring  for many years,  and used it, so it might take a long while for the  influence to  wear off - before it was safe for him to see it  again, for  instance.  Otherwise,  he might  live on  for years,  quite happily: just stop  as  he was when he parted with  it. For he gave it up in the end of his own accord: an important point. No, I  was  not troubled about dear Bilbo any more, once he had let the  thing go. It is for you that I feel responsible.      'Ever  since  Bilbo left  I have been deeply concerned  about you,  and about all  these charming, absurd, helpless  hobbits. It would be a grievous blow to the world, if  the Dark Power overcame the Shire; if all  your kind, jolly, stupid Bolgers, Hornblowers, Boffins, Bracegirdles, and the rest, not to mention the ridiculous Bagginses, became enslaved.'
  96.      Frodo shuddered. 'But why  should we be?'  he asked. 'And why should he want such slaves?'      'To tell you the  truth,' replied Gandalf,  'I  believe that hitherto - hitherto,  mark you - he has entirely overlooked the existence  of  hobbits. You should be thankful. But your  safety has passed. He does not need you  - he  has  many  more useful  servants  -  but  he won't forget you again. And hobbits as miserable slaves would please him far more than hobbits happy and free. There is such a thing as malice and revenge.'      'Revenge?' said Frodo. 'Revenge for what? I still don't understand what all this has to do with Bilbo and myself, and our ring.'      'It has everything to do with  it,' said Gandalf. 'You do  not know the real peril  yet; but  you shall. I was not sure of it myself when I was last here; but the time has come to speak. Give me the ring for a moment.'      Frodo took it from his breeches-pocket, where it was clasped to a chain that hung  from  his  belt. He unfastened  it  and handed  it slowly  to the wizard. It felt suddenly very heavy, as if either it or Frodo himself was in some way reluctant for Gandalf to touch it.      Gandalf held it up. It looked  to be  made of pure and solid gold. 'Can you see any markings on it?' he asked.      'No,'  said  Frodo. 'There  are none. It is quite  plain,  and it never shows a scratch or sign of wear.'      'Well  then, look!'  To Frodo's  astonishment and  distress  the wizard threw it suddenly  into the middle  of a glowing corner  of the fire.  Frodo gave a cry and groped for the tongs; but Gandalf held him back.      'Wait!' he said in a commanding voice,  giving Frodo a quick  look from under his bristling brows.      No apparent  change came over the ring. After a  while  Gandalf got up, closed  the shutters outside the window,  and drew  the  curtains.  The room became dark and silent, though the  clack of Sam's shears, now nearer to the windows,  could  still be heard  faintly from the garden. For  a  moment the wizard stood looking at the fire; then he stooped and  removed  the ring  to the hearth with the tongs, and at once picked it up. Frodo gasped.      It  is quite cool,' said Gandalf. 'Take it!' Frodo received  it  on his shrinking palm: it seemed to have become thicker and heavier than ever.      'Hold it up!' said Gandalf. 'And look closely!'      As  Frodo  did  so,  he  now  saw  fine  lines, finer than  the  finest pen-strokes,  running along the ring, outside and inside: lines of fire that
  97. seemed  to  form  the  letters of a flowing  script. They  shone  piercingly bright, and yet remote, as if out of a great depth.
  98.  
  99.      I cannot read the fiery letters,' said Frodo in a quavering voice.      'No,' said Gandalf, 'but I can. The  letters are Elvish,  of an ancient mode, but the  language is that of Mordor, which I will  not utter here. But this in the Common Tongue is what is said, close enough:      One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,      One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.      It is only two lines of a verse long known in Elven-lore:      Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,      Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,      Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,      One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne      In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.      One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them,      One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them      In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.'      He  paused,  and  then  said  slowly in  a  deep voice:  'This  is  the Master-ring, the One  Ring to rule them all.  This is the  One  Ring that he lost many ages ago, to the great weakening of  his power. He greatly desires it - but he must not get it.'      Frodo sat silent  and motionless.  Fear seemed  to stretch out  a  vast hand, like a dark  cloud rising in the East and  looming  up  to engulf him. 'This ring!' he stammered. 'How, how on earth did it come to me?'      'Ah!' said Gandalf. 'That is a very long story. The beginnings lie back in  the Black Years, which only the lore-masters now remember. If  I were to tell  you all  that tale, we should still  be sitting  here when  Spring had passed into Winter.      'But last  night  I told  you of Sauron the Great,  the Dark  Lord. The rumours that you have  heard are  true: he  has indeed arisen again and left his hold in Mirkwood and returned to his ancient fastness in the  Dark Tower of Mordor. That name even  you  hobbits have heard of, like a  shadow on the borders of  old  stories. Always after a  defeat and a  respite, the  Shadow takes another shape and grows again.'      'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo.      'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But
  100. that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that  is given, us. And already, Frodo,  our  time is beginning to look black. The Enemy is fast becoming very strong. His plans are  far from ripe, I think, but  they are ripening. We shall be hard put to  it.  We  should be very hard put to it, even if it were not for this dreadful chance.      'The Enemy  still lacks one thing to give him strength and knowledge to beat down all resistance,  break the last defences, and cover  all the lands in a second darkness. He lacks the One Ring.      'The  Three, fairest of all, the Elf-lords hid  from him, and  his hand never touched  them or  sullied them. Seven the  Dwarf-kings possessed,  but three he  has recovered,  and the others the  dragons have consumed. Nine he gave  to  Mortal Men,  proud and great, and so ensnared them. Long ago  they fell under  the dominion  of the One, and they became  Ringwraiths,  shadows under  his  great Shadow, his most terrible servants. Long ago. It is many a year since the Nine walked abroad. Yet who  knows?  As the Shadow grows once more, they too may walk again. But  come!  We will not speak of such  things even in the morning of the Shire.      'So it is now: the Nine he has gathered to himself; the Seven also,  or else  they are  destroyed.  The Three are hidden still.  But that no  longer troubles him. He only  needs the One; for he made  that Ring himself, it  is his, and he let a great part of his  own former power pass  into it, so that he could rule all the others.  If he recovers it, then he  will command them all again, wherever they be,  even the Three, and  all that has been wrought with them will be laid bare, and he will be stronger than ever.      'And this  is the dreadful chance, Frodo. He believed that the  One had perished; that the Elves had destroyed it, as should have been  done. But he knows now that it has not perished, that it has been found. So he is seeking it, seeking it, and all his thought is bent  on it. It is his great hope and our great fear.'      'Why,  why wasn't it destroyed?'  cried Frodo. 'And how  did  the Enemy ever come to lose it, if  he  was so strong, and it was so precious to him?' He  clutched  the Ring  in his hand,  as  if  he saw  already  dark  fingers stretching out to seize it.      'It  was taken from him,' said Gandalf.  'The  strength of the Elves to resist  him was greater long ago; and  not all Men were estranged from them. The  Men of Westernesse  came  to their aid. That  is a  chapter of  ancient
  101. history which it might be good to recall; for there was sorrow then too, and gathering dark, but great valour, and great deeds that were not wholly vain. One day, perhaps, I will tell you all the tale, or you shall hear it told in full by one who knows it best.      'But for the moment, since most of all you need to know how  this thing came to  you, and that will be tale enough, this is all that  I will say. It was Gil-galad,  Elven-king and Elendil  of Westernesse who overthrew Sauron, though they themselves perished in the  deed; and Isildur Elendil's son  cut the  Ring  from  Sauron's hand and  took  it  for his own.  Then  Sauron was vanquished  and  his  spirit fled and was hidden for long  years,  until his shadow took shape again in Mirkwood.      'But  the  Ring was lost. It fell  into  the Great  River, Anduin,  and vanished. For Isildur was marching north  along the east banks of the River, and near the Gladden Fields he was waylaid by the Orcs of the Mountains, and almost all his folk  were slain. He leaped  into the waters,  but  the  Ring slipped from his finger as he swam, and then the Orcs saw him and killed him with arrows.'      Gandalf paused. 'And there in the dark pools amid the  Gladden Fields,' he said, 'the Ring passed out  of knowledge and legend; and even so much  of its history is known now  only to a few, and the Council of the  Wise  could discover no more. But at last I can carry on the story, I think.      'Long  after, but  still very long ago, there lived by the banks of the Great River  on  the edge of  Wilderland  a  clever-handed  and quiet-footed little people. I guess they were of hobbit-kind; akin to the fathers of  the fathers  of the Stoors, for they loved  the  River, and often swam in it, or made  little  boats  of reeds. There was among them a family of high repute, for it was  large and wealthier than most, and it was ruled by a grandmother of  the  folk, stern  and  wise  in old lore,  such  as they  had. The  most inquisitive and  curious-minded of that  family was called  Smjagol. He  was interested in  roots and beginnings; he dived into  deep pools; he  burrowed under  trees and  growing plants; he tunnelled  into green  mounds;  and  he ceased to  look up at the hill-tops, or the leaves on trees, or  the flowers opening in the air: his head and his eyes were downward.      'He had a  friend  called Djagol, of similar sort, sharper-eyed but not so quick and strong. On a time they took a boat and went down to the Gladden Fields, where  there were  great beds  of  iris  and  flowering reeds. There Smjagol got out and went nosing about the banks but Deal sat in the boat and
  102. fished. Suddenly a great fish took  his  hook, and before he  knew where  he was, he was dragged out and down into the water, to  the bottom. Then he let go of his line, for he thought he saw  something shining  in  the river-bed; and holding his breath he grabbed at it.      'Then up he came spluttering,  with weeds in his  hair and a handful of mud; and he swam to the bank. And behold! when he washed the mud away, there in his  hand lay a beautiful golden ring; and it  shone and glittered in the sun, so  that his heart  was glad.  But  Smjagol had  been watching him from behind  a tree, and as Deal  gloated  over the  ring, Smjagol came softly up behind.      '"Give  us  that,  Deal,  my  love,"  said Smjagol,  over  his friend's shoulder.      '"Why?" said Deal.      ' "Because it's my birthday, my love, and I wants it," said Smjagol.      '"I don't care," said Deal. "I have  given  you a present already, more than I could afford. I found this, and I'm going to keep it."      ' "Oh, are you  indeed, my  love," said  Smjagol; and he caught Deal by the  throat  and  strangled  him,  because  the gold  looked  so bright  and beautiful. Then he put the ring on his finger.      'No one  ever found out what had become  of  Deal;  he was murdered far from home, and  his body  was cunningly hidden. But  Smjagol returned alone; and he found that none of his  family could see him, when he was wearing the ring. He was  very  pleased with  his discovery  and he concealed it; and he used it  to  find  out secrets, and  he  put  his  knowledge to crooked  and malicious  uses.  He became  sharp-eyed and  keen-eared  for  all  that  was hurtful. The ring had given him power according to his stature. It is not to be wondered at  that he became very unpopular and was shunned (when visible) by  all his  relations.  They kicked him, and he  bit their feet. He took to thieving, and going about muttering to himself,  and gurgling in his throat. So they called him Gollum, and cursed him, and told him to go far  away; and his grandmother, desiring peace, expelled him from the family and turned him out of her hole.      'He wandered in  loneliness, weeping a little for the  hardness  of the world, and he journeyed up the River, till  he came to a stream that  flowed down from the mountains, and he went that way.  He caught fish in deep pools
  103. with invisible fingers and ate them raw. One day it was very hot, and as  he was  bending over a  pool, he felt a burning  on the back of his head) and a dazzling light from the water pained his wet eyes. He wondered at it, for he had almost forgotten about  the Sun. Then for the last time he looked up and shook his fist at her.      'But  as  he  lowered his eyes, he saw far above  the tops of the Misty Mountains, out of which the stream came.  And he thought suddenly: "It would be cool and shady under  those mountains. The Sun could not  watch me there. The  roots  of those mountains  must be  roots indeed; there  must be  great secrets buried there which have not been discovered since the beginning."      'So he journeyed by night up into  the highlands, and he found a little cave  out of which the dark stream ran; and  he wormed his way like a maggot into the heart of the  hills, and vanished  out  of all  knowledge. The Ring went into the shadows with him, and even the maker, when his power had begun to grow again, could learn nothing of it.'      'Gollum!' cried  Frodo. 'Gollum? Do  you mean  that this  is  the  very Gollum-creature that Bilbo met? How loathsome!'      'I  think  it  is  a sad  story,' said the  wizard, 'and it might  have happened to others, even to some hobbits that I have known.'      'I  can't  believe  that  Gollum  was  connected with  hobbits, however distantly,' said Frodo with some heat. 'What an abominable notion!'      'It is  true all  the same,' replied Gandalf. 'About their  origins, at any  rate, I know  more than hobbits  do themselves. And even  Bilbo's story suggests the kinship. There  was  a  great  deal in the background  of their minds  and memories  that was  very  similar.  They  understood one  another remarkably well,  very much  better  than a hobbit would  understand, say, a Dwarf, or an Orc, or even  an Elf. Think of the riddles they both  knew, for one thing.'      'Yes,' said Frodo. 'Though other folks besides hobbits ask riddles, and of  much the same sort. And hobbits don't cheat.  Gollum  meant to cheat all the time. He was just trying to put poor Bilbo  off his guard. And I daresay it amused his wickedness  to  start a game which might end  in providing him with an easy victim, but if he lost would not hurt him.'      'Only too true, I fear,' said Gandalf. 'But there was something else in it, I think, which you don't see yet. Even Gollum was not wholly  ruined. He had proved tougher than even one of the Wise would have guessed -as a hobbit
  104. might. There  was a little  corner of  his mind that was still  his own, and light  came  through it, as  through  a  chink in the dark: light out of the past.  It was actually  pleasant,  I think,  to  hear  a kindly voice again, bringing up memories  of wind,  and trees, and sun  on the  grass, and  such forgotten things.      'But that, of  course, would only make the evil  part of him angrier in the end - unless it could  be conquered.  Unless it could be cured.' Gandalf sighed. 'Alas! there is little hope of  that for him. Yet  not  no hope. No, not  though  he  possessed  the Ring so  long, almost  as far back as he can remember. For it was long since he  had worn it much:  in the black darkness it was seldom needed. Certainly he had never "faded".  He is  thin and tough still. But the  thing was eating up his mind, of course, and the torment had become almost unbearable.      'All the "great secrets" under the mountains had turned  out to be just empty night: there was  nothing more to find out,  nothing worth doing, only nasty furtive eating and resentful remembering.  He was altogether wretched. He hated the  dark,  and  he hated light more: he hated  everything, and the Ring most of all.'      'What  do you mean?' said Frodo. 'Surely the Ring was his  precious and the only thing he cared for?  But if he  hated it,  why didn't he get rid of it, or go away and leave it?'      'You  ought to  begin to understand, Frodo,  after all you have heard,' said Gandalf. 'He  hated it and loved it, as he hated and loved  himself. He could not get rid of it. He had no will left in the matter.      'A  Ring  of  Power  looks   after  itself,  Frodo.  It  may  slip  off treacherously, but its keeper never  abandons it. At most he  plays with the idea of handing  it on  to someone else's care - and  that  only at an early stage, when it first  begins  to grip. But  as  far as I know Bilbo alone in history has ever gone beyond playing, and  really done it.  He needed all my help, too. And even  so he would never  have just  forsaken  it, or  cast it aside. It  was not Gollum, Frodo, but the  Ring  itself that decided things. The Ring left him.'      'What, just in time  to meet Bilbo?' said Frodo. 'Wouldn't an  Orc have suited it better?'      'It  is no laughing  matter,'  said Gandalf. 'Not for you.  It was  the strangest event in the  whole history of the  Ring so far:  Bilbo's  arrival just at that time, and putting his hand on it, blindly, in the dark.
  105.      'There was more than one power at work, Frodo. The  Ring was  trying to get back to its master. It had slipped from Isildur's hand and betrayed him; then when a  chance came it caught poor Deal, and he was murdered; and after that Gollum,  and it had devoured him. It could make  no further use of him: he was too  small and mean; and as long as it stayed with him he would never leave his deep pool again. So  now, when its master was awake  once more and sending out his dark  thought from Mirkwood, it abandoned Gollum. Only to be picked up by the most unlikely person imaginable: Bilbo from the Shire!      'Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker.  I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant  to find the Ring, and not by its maker.  In which  case you  also were meant to have it. And that maybe an encouraging thought.'      It  is  not,' said Frodo. "Though I am not sure  that I understand you. But how have you  learned all this about the Ring, and about  Gollum? Do you really know it all, or are you just guessing still?'      Gandalf looked  at Frodo, and his eyes glinted. I knew much  and I have learned much,' he answered. 'But I am not going to give an account of all my doings to you. The history of Elendil and Isildur and the One Ring is  known to all the  Wise. Your ring is shown to be that One Ring by the fire-writing alone, apart from any  other evidence.' 'And  when  did you discover  that?' asked Frodo, interrupting. 'Just  now in this room, of course,' answered the wizard sharply.  'But  I expected to  find  it.  I have come back  from dark journeys and long search to make that final test. It is the last proof,  and all is now only too clear. Making out Gollum's part, and fitting it into the gap in the history, required some  thought. I may have  started with guesses about Gollum, but I am not guessing now. I know. I have seen him.'      'You have seen Gollum?' exclaimed Frodo in amazement.      'Yes. The obvious thing to do, of  course, if  one  could. I tried long ago; but I have managed it at last.'      'Then what happened after Bilbo escaped from him? Do you know that?'      'Not so  clearly.  What I  have told you is what Gollum was  willing to tell - though not, of course, in the  way  I have  reported it. Gollum  is a liar,  and you have to sift his words. For instance, he called the  Ring his "birthday  present",  and he  stuck  to  that.  He  said it  came  from  his grandmother, who  had lots  of beautiful  things of  that kind. A ridiculous story. I have no doubt  that Smjagol's grandmother was a matriarch,  a great
  106. person in her  way,  but to talk of  her  possessing  many  Elven-rings  was absurd, and as for giving them away, it was a lie. But a lie with a grain of truth.      'The  murder  of  Deal haunted  Gollum,  and he had made  up a defence, repeating  it  to his "precious" over and  over again, as he gnawed bones in the dark, until he almost  believed it. It  was  his birthday. Deal ought to have given the ring to him. It had  previously turned up  just so as to be a present. It was his birthday present, and so on, and on.      I  endured  him  as long  as  I could,  but  the truth  was desperately important, and in the end I  had to be harsh. I put the fear of fire on him, and wrung  the  true  story  out of  him, bit by  bit,  together  with  much snivelling  and snarling. He thought  he was misunderstood and ill-used. But when  he  had  at  last  told  me his history,  as  far  as  the end of  the Riddle-game  and Bilbo's escape, he would not say any more,  except in  dark hints. Some other fear was on him greater than mine. He muttered that he was going  to gel his own back. People would see if he would stand being kicked, and driven  into  a hole and  then robbed. Gollum had good friends now, good friends and very strong. They would help him. Baggins would pay for it. That was his chief thought. He hated Bilbo and cursed his name. What  is more, he knew where he came from.'      'But how did he find that out?' asked Frodo.      'Well, as for the  name, Bilbo very foolishly told  Gollum himself; and after that  it  would  not be difficult to discover his country, once Gollum came out. Oh yes, he came out. His longing for the Ring proved stronger than his fear of the Orcs, or even of the light. After a year  or two he left the mountains. You  see, though  still  bound  by desire of it, the Ring was  no longer devouring him; he began  to revive a little.  He  felt  old, terribly old, yet less timid, and he was mortally hungry.      'Light, light of Sun and Moon, he still feared and hated, and he always will, I think; but he was cunning. He found he could hide  from daylight and moonshine,  and make his way swiftly  and softly by dead of night  with  his pale cold  eyes,  and  catch  small  frightened or  unwary  things. He  grew stronger  and  bolder  with new food  and  new air. He  found  his way  into Mirkwood, as one would expect.'      'Is that where you found him?' asked Frodo.      'I  saw  him there,' answered Gandalf, 'but before that he had wandered far, following  Bilbo's trail. It was difficult to  learn anything  from him
  107. for certain, for his talk was constantly interrupted  by curses and threats. "What had it  got in its pocketses?" he said. "It wouldn't say, no precious. Little cheat. Not a fair  question. It  cheated first, it did. It  broke the rules. We ought to have squeezed it, yes precious. And we will, precious!"      'That is a sample of his talk. I don't suppose you want any more. I had weary days  of it. But from hints dropped among  the snarls I  even gathered that his padding feet had  taken him  at last to Esgaroth, and even  to  the streets of Dale, listening secretly and peering. Well, the news of the great events went far and wide in Wilderland, and many had heard Bilbo's name  and knew where he came from.  We had made no secret of our return journey to his home in the West. Gollum's sharp ears would soon learn what he wanted.'      'Then why didn't  he track Bilbo further?' asked Frodo. 'Why didn't  he come to the Shire?'      'Ah,' said Gandalf, 'now we come to it. I think Gollum tried to. He set out and  came  back westward, as far as the Great River. But  then he turned aside. He  was not daunted by  the distance, I am  sure.  No, something else drew him away. So my friends think, those that hunted him for me.      'The Wood-elves tracked him first, an easy task for them, for his trail was  still fresh  then. Through Mirkwood and back again it  led them, though they never  caught him. The wood was full of  the  rumour  of  him, dreadful tales even among beasts and birds. The  Woodmen said that there was some new terror abroad, a ghost that drank blood. It climbed trees to  find nests; it crept into  holes  to  find  the young; it slipped  through windows  to find cradles.      'But at the western edge of Mirkwood the trail turned away. It wandered off southwards and passed out of the Wood-elves' ken, and was lost. And then I made a great mistake. Yes,  Frodo, and not the first; though I fear it may prove the  worst. I let the matter be. I let  him go; for I had much else to think of at that time, and I still trusted the lore of Saruman.      'Well, that was  years ago. I have paid for it since with many dark and dangerous days. The trail was long cold when I took it up again, after Bilbo left here. And my search would  have been in vain,  but for the  help that I had from a friend: Aragorn, the greatest traveller and huntsman of this  age of  the world.  Together we  sought  for  Gollum down  the  whole length  of Wilderland, without hope, and without success. But at last, when I had given up the chase and turned to other parts, Gollum was found. My friend returned
  108. out of the great perils bringing the miserable creature with him.      'What he had  been doing  he would not say. He only wept and  called us cruel,  with many a gollum in his throat; and when we pressed him he  whined and  cringed, and  rubbed his  long hands, licking his  fingers  as if  they pained  him, as if he remembered some old torture.  But I am afraid there is no possible doubt: he had made his slow, sneaking way, step by step, mile by mile, south, down at last to the Land of Mordor.'      A heavy silence fell in the room.  Frodo could hear his  heart beating. Even outside everything seemed still. No sound of Sam's  shears could now be heard.      'Yes,  to Mordor,' said Gandalf. 'Alas! Mordor draws all wicked things, and the Dark Power was bending all its will to  gather them there.  The Ring of the Enemy would leave  its  mark, too, leave him open to the summons. And all folk were whispering then of the new Shadow in the South, and its hatred of  the  West.  There were his fine  new  friends, who would help him in his revenge!      'Wretched  fool!  In that land he  would  learn  much, too much for his comfort. And sooner or later as he lurked and pried on  the borders he would be caught, and taken - for examination. That was the way of it, I fear. When he was found he  had already been  there long,  and was on his  way back. On some errand  of  mischief. But  that  does  not matter  much now. His  worst mischief was done.      'Yes, alas! through  him the  Enemy has learned that the One  has  been found again. He  knows where Isildur fell. He knows  where  Gollum found his ring. He knows that it is a Great Ring, for it gave long life. He knows that it is not one of the  Three, for they have  never been lost, and they endure no evil. He knows that it is not one of the Seven, or the Nine, for they are accounted for.  He  knows that it is  the One.  And he has  at last heard, I think, of hobbits and the Shire.      'The Shire - he may be seeking for  it now, if he has not already found out where it lies. Indeed, Frodo, I fear that  he may  even think  that  the long-unnoticed name of Baggins has become important.'      'But this is  terrible!' cried Frodo. 'Far  worse than the worst that I imagined from your hints and warnings. O Gandalf, best of friends, what am I to do? For now I am really afraid. What  am  I to do? What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!'      'Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike
  109. without need. And  he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil,  and escaped  in  the  end, because he began  his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity.'      'I am sorry,' said  Frodo.  'But I am frightened; and I do not feel any pity for Gollum.'      'You have not seen him,' Gandalf broke in.      'No,  and I don't  want to,' said Frodo. I can't understand you. Do you mean to  say that you, and the Elves, have let him live on  after all  those horrible  deeds? Now at any rate he is  as bad as an Orc, and just an enemy. He deserves death.'      'Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager  to deal out death in judgement.  For  even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have not much hope  that Gollum can be cured before  he dies, but there is a chance of it. And  he is bound  up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells me that  he  has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end; and when that comes, the pity  of Bilbo may  rule the fate  of many -  yours not least. In any case we did  not kill him:  he is very old  and very wretched. The Wood-elves have him in prison, but they treat him with such  kindness as they can find in their wise hearts.'      'All the same,' said Frodo,  'even if  Bilbo could  not kill  Gollum, I wish he had not kept the  Ring. I wish he had never found it, and that I had not got it!  Why  did  you  let me keep it? Why didn't you make me  throw it away, or, or destroy it?'      'Let you? Make you?' said the  wizard.  'Haven't you been  listening to all  that I  have said? You are not thinking of what you are saying.  But as for throwing  it away,  that was  obviously wrong. These Rings have a way of being  found. In evil hands it might have done great evil. Worst  of all, it might have fallen into the  hands of the Enemy. Indeed  it certainly  would; for this is the One, and  he is exerting all his power to find it or draw it to himself.      'Of  course, my  dear  Frodo,  it  was dangerous  for you; and that has troubled me deeply. But there  was so  much at stake that I had to take some risk  - though even when  I was far away there has never been a day when the Shire has not been guarded by watchful eyes. As long as you never used it, I did not think  that the Ring would have  any lasting effect on  you, not for evil,  not at any rate for a very long time. And you must remember that nine
  110. years ago, when I last saw you, I still knew little for certain.'      'But  why  not destroy  it, as you say should have been done long ago?' cried Frodo again. If you had warned me, or even  sent me a message, I would have done away with it.'      'Would you? How would you do that? Have you ever tried?'      'No. But I suppose one could hammer it or melt it.'      'Try!' said Gandalf. Try now!'      Frodo drew the Ring  out of his pocket again and looked  at it. It  now appeared  plain and smooth, without  mark or device that  he  could see. The gold looked very fair and pure, and Frodo thought how rich and beautiful was its  colour,  how perfect was  its  roundness. It was an admirable thing and altogether  precious. When he  took  it out he had intended to fling it from him into the very hottest  part of the  fire. But he found now that he could not do so, not without a great  struggle. He weighed the  Ring in his  hand, hesitating,  and forcing himself to remember all that Gandalf had told  him; and then with an effort of will he made a movement, as if to cast  it away - but he found that he had put it back in his pocket.      Gandalf laughed grimly. 'You see? Already you too, Frodo, cannot easily let  it  go,  nor will to damage it. And I  could not "make" you - except by force, which would break your mind. But as for breaking  the Ring, force  is useless. Even if you took it and struck it  with a  heavy sledge-hammer,  it would make no dint in it. It cannot be unmade by your hands, or by mine.      'Your small  fire, of course, would  not melt even ordinary  gold. This Ring has already passed through it unscathed,  and even unheated.  But there is  no smith's forge in this Shire that could change it at all. Not even the anvils and furnaces  of  the Dwarves could do that.  It has been  said  that dragon-fire could melt and consume the Rings  of Power, but there is not now any dragon left on earth in which the old fire is hot enough; nor was  there ever any dragon, not even Ancalagon the Black, who could have harmed the One Ring,  the Ruling Ring, for  that was  made by Sauron himself. There is only one  way:  to  find  the  Cracks  of Doom in  the  depths  of Orodruin,  the Fire-mountain, and cast the Ring in there, if you really wish to destroy it, to put it beyond the grasp of the Enemy for ever.'      'I do  really wish to destroy it!'  cried Frodo. 'Or,  well, to have it destroyed. I am not  made for perilous  quests. I wish  I had never seen the Ring! Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?'
  111.      'Such questions cannot be  answered,'  said Gandalf.  'You may be  sure that it was not  for any merit that others do not possess: not for  power or wisdom,  at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you  must therefore  use such strength and heart and wits as you have.'      'But I  have so  little of any  of  these  things!  You  are  wise  and powerful. Will you not take the Ring?'      'No!' cried Gandalf, springing  to  his feet. 'With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring  would  gain a power still greater and more deadly.' His eyes flashed and his face  was lit as by a fire within. 'Do not tempt me! For I do not  wish to become like the  Dark Lord  himself. Yet the  way of the  Ring  to  my heart is by pity, pity  for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do  not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too great, for my  strength.  I shall  have  such  need of it. Great  perils lie before me.'      He  went to the  window and drew aside the curtains  and the  shutters. Sunlight  streamed  back again into  the  room. Sam  passed  along the  path outside whistling. 'And now,'  said  the wizard, turning back to Frodo, 'the decision lies with you. But  I will always  help you.' He  laid his hand  on Frodo's shoulder. 'I will help you bear this  burden, as long as It is yours to bear. But we must do something, soon. The Enemy is moving.'      There was a long  silence.  Gandalf  sat down again and puffed  at  his pipe, as if lost in thought. His eyes  seemed closed, but under the  lids he was watching Frodo  intently. Frodo  gazed fixedly at the red embers on  the hearth,  until they filled all his vision,  and he seemed to be looking down into  profound  wells of fire. He was thinking of the fabled  Cracks of Doom and the terror of the Fiery Mountain.      'Well!'  said Gandalf at last.  'What are you  thinking about? Have you decided what to do?'      'No!'  answered Frodo,  coming back to himself  out  of  darkness,  and finding to his surprise that it was not dark, and that out of the  window he could see the sunlit garden.  'Or perhaps, yes.  As far as I understand what you have said, I suppose I must keep the Ring and guard it, at least for the present, whatever it may do to me.'      'Whatever it may do, it will be slow, slow to evil, if you keep it with that purpose,' said Gandalf.      'I hope so,'  said Frodo.  'But I  hope  that  you may  find some other
  112. better  keeper soon. But in the meanwhile it  seems that I  am  a  danger, a danger  to all that live near  me.  I cannot  keep the Ring and stay here. I ought to leave  Bag End,  leave the Shire, leave everything and go away.' He sighed.      'I should like to  save  the Shire, if I could - though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or  an invasion of dragons might  be good  for them. But  I don't feel  like that  now. I feel  that  as  long as the Shire  lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find  wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm  foothold, even if my feet  cannot stand there again.      'Of course, I have sometimes thought of going away, but I imagined that as a kind of holiday, a series of adventures like Bilbo's  or better, ending in  peace. But this  would  mean exile,  a  flight from danger into  danger, drawing  it after me. And I suppose I  must go alone, if I am to do that and save  the Shire.  But I  feel very  small, and  very  uprooted,  and  well - desperate. The Enemy is so strong and terrible.'      He did  not tell  Gandalf, but as  he  was speaking a  great desire  to follow  Bilbo flamed up in his heart - to follow Bilbo, and even perhaps  to find him again. It was so strong that it overcame his fear: he  could almost have run out there and then down the road without his hat, as Bilbo had done on a similar morning long ago.      'My  dear  Frodo!'  exclaimed  Gandalf.  'Hobbits  really  are  amazing creatures, as I have said before. You  can learn all that there  is  to know about their  ways in a month, and yet after  a hundred  years they can still surprise you at a pinch. I hardly expected to get  such  an answer, not even from  you. But Bilbo made no mistake in choosing his heir, though  he little thought how important it  would prove. I am afraid  you are  right. The Ring will not be able to stay hidden in the  Shire much longer; and for  your own sake, as  well  as  for others, you  will have to go, and leave the  name of Baggins behind you. That name will not be safe to have, outside the Shire or in the Wild. I will give  you a travelling name now. When you go, go as  Mr. Underhill.      'But I don't think you need go alone. Not if you know of anyone you can trust, and who would be willing  to go by your side -  and that you would be willing to take  into unknown perils.  But  if you look for a  companion, be careful in choosing! And be  careful of what  you say,  even to your closest
  113. friends! The enemy has many spies and many ways of hearing.'      Suddenly he  stopped as if  listening.  Frodo became aware that all was very quiet,  inside and  outside. Gandalf  crept to one side of  the window. Then with  a  dart he  sprang to  the sill,  and thrust a  long arm out  and downwards. There was a squawk, and up came Sam Gamgee's curly head hauled by one ear.      'Well, well, bless my beard!' said Gandalf. 'Sam Gamgee is it? Now what may you be doing?'      'Lor bless  you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!' said Sam. 'Nothing! Leastways I was just  trimming the grass-border  under  the window,  if you  follow me.'  He picked up his shears and exhibited them as evidence.      'I don't,' said Gandalf grimly. It is some time  since I last heard the sound of your shears. How long have you been eavesdropping?'      'Eavesdropping,  sir? I don't  follow you, begging  your pardon.  There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact.'      'Don't be  a  fool! What  have  you  heard,  and why  did you  listen?' Gandalf's eyes flashed and his brows stuck out like bristles.      'Mr. Frodo, sir!' cried Sam quaking. 'Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't let  him turn  me  into anything unnatural!  My old  dad would take on so. I meant no harm, on my honour, sir!'      'He  won't hurt you,' said Frodo,  hardly able to keep  from  laughing, although he was himself startled and rather puzzled. 'He knows, as well as I do, that you mean no harm. But just you up and answer his questions straight away!'      'Well, sir,' said Sam dithering a little. 'I heard a deal that I didn't rightly  understand,  about an  enemy, and  rings, and  Mr. Bilbo, sir,  and dragons, and a  fiery mountain, and - and  Elves, sir. I listened because  I couldn't help  myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless  me, sir, but I do love tales of  that sort. And  I believe  them  too,  whatever Ted may  say. Elves,  sir! I  would dearly love  to see them. Couldn't you take  me to see Elves, sir, when you go?'      Suddenly Gandalf laughed. 'Come  inside!' he shouted,  and  putting out both his arms he lifted the astonished Sam, shears, grass-clippings and all, right through the window and stood him on the floor. 'Take you to see Elves, eh?' he  said, eyeing Sam  closely, but with a smile flickering on his face. 'So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?'
  114.      'I  did,  sir.  And that's why I choked:  which  you heard seemingly. I tried not to, sir, but it burst out of me: I was so upset.'      'It can't be  helped, Sam,' said  Frodo sadly. He had suddenly realized that  flying  from the Shire  would mean  more painful partings than  merely saying farewell  to  the familiar comforts of Bag End. 'I shall have to  go. But' - and  here he looked  hard at Sam  - 'if you really care about me, you will keep that dead secret. See? If you don't, if you even breathe a word of what you've heard here, then  I  hope  Gandalf will turn you into a  spotted toad and fill the garden full of grass-snakes.'      Sam fell on his knees,  trembling. 'Get  up, Sam!' said Gandalf. I have thought of something better than  that. Something  to shut your  mouth,  and punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!'      'Me,  sir!' cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk.  'Me go and see Elves and all! Hooray!' he shouted, and then burst into tears.
  115.  
  116.  
  117.  
  118. Chapter 3. Three is Company
  119.  
  120.  
  121.      'You ought to go quietly, and you ought to  go soon,' said Gandalf. Two or three weeks had passed, and still Frodo made  no sign of getting ready to go.      'I know. But it is difficult to do both,' he objected. If I just vanish like Bilbo, the tale will be all over the Shire in no time.'      'Of course you mustn't vanish!' said Gandalf. 'That wouldn't do at all! I said soon, not instantly. If  you can think of any way of slipping out  of the  Shire  without  its  being generally known, it will  be  worth a little delay. But you must not delay too long.'      'What  about the  autumn, on  or after  Our Birthday?' asked  Frodo. 'I think I could probably make some arrangements by then.'      To tell the truth, he was very reluctant to start, now that it had come to  the  point. Bag End seemed a more  desirable residence than  it  had for years, and he wanted to savour as much as he could of his last summer in the Shire. When autumn came, he knew that part at least of his heart would think more kindly  of journeying, as it always did at that season. He  had  indeed privately made up his mind to leave on his  fiftieth birthday:  Bilbo's  one hundred and twenty-eighth. It  seemed somehow the proper day on which to set out and follow him. Following Bilbo was uppermost in his mind, and  the  one thing  that made the thought  of leaving  bearable. He  thought as little as possible about the Ring, and where it might lead him in  the end. But he did not tell all his  thoughts to Gandalf. What the  wizard  guessed  was always difficult to tell.      He looked at Frodo and smiled. 'Very well,' he said. 'I think that will do -  but  it must not  be any  later. I  am getting  very anxious.  In  the mean-while, do take care, and don't let out any hint of where you are going! And  see  that Sam Gamgee does not talk. If he does, I really shall turn him into a toad.'      'As for  where I am going,' said Frodo, 'it would be  difficult to give that away, for I have no clear idea myself, yet.'      'Don't be absurd!' said Gandalf. 'I  am not warning you against leaving an  address  at the post-office!  But you are leaving the  Shire  - and that should not be known,  until you  are far away. And  you must go, or at least
  122. set  out,  either North,  South,  West  or East -  and  the direction should certainly not be known.'      'I have been so  taken up with the thoughts of leaving  Bag End, and of saying  farewell, that I have  never even  considered  the  direction,' said Frodo. 'For where am I to go? And by  what  shall I  steer? What is to be my quest? Bilbo went to find a treasure, there and back again; but I go to lose one, and not return, as far as I can see.'      'But you cannot  see very far,' said Gandalf. 'Neither can I. It may be your task to find the Cracks of Doom; but that quest may be for others: I do not know. At any rate you are not ready for that long road yet.'      'No  indeed!' said  Frodo.  'But  in the  meantime what course am I  to lake?'      'Towards  danger; but not  too  rashly, nor too straight,' answered the wizard. 'If you want my advice, make for Rivendell. That journey  should not prove too  perilous, though the  Road is less easy than it was, and it  will grow worse as the year fails.'      'Rivendell!' said  Frodo. 'Very good:  I will go east, and  I will make for Rivendell. I will take Sam to visit the Elves; he will be delighted.' He spoke lightly;  but his heart was  moved  suddenly with  a desire to see the house of Elrond  Halfelven, and  breathe the  air  of that deep valley where many of the Fair Folk still dwelt in peace.      One summer's evening an astonishing piece of news  reached the Ivy Bush and Green Dragon. Giants and other portents on the borders of the Shire were forgotten for more important matters: Mr. Frodo was  selling Bag End, indeed he had already sold it - to the Sackville-Bagginses!      'For a nice bit, loo,' said some.  'At a bargain price,'  said  others, 'and that's more likely when Mistress Lobelia's  the  buyer.' (Otho had died some years before, at the ripe but disappointed age of 102.)      Just  why  Mr.  Frodo  was selling  his  beautiful hole was  even  more debatable than the price. A  few held the theory - supported by the nods and hints  of Mr. Baggins himself - that Frodo's money was  running out: he  was going to leave Hobbiton and live in a  quiet way on the proceeds of the sale down  in  Buckland  among   his  Brandybuck  relations.  'As  far  from  the Sackville-Bagginses  as may be,'  some added.  But  so firmly fixed  had the notion of  the immeasurable wealth  of the Bagginses of Bag End  become that most found this  hard to believe, harder than  any  other reason or unreason that  their fancy  could suggest:  to  most  it suggested  a  dark  and  yet
  123. unrevealed plot by Gandalf. Though he kept himself very quiet and did not go about by day, it was well known that he was 'hiding up in the  Bag End'. But however a removal might  fit in with the  designs of his wizardry, there was no doubt about the fact: Frodo Baggins was going back to Buckland.      'Yes, I shall be moving  this autumn,' he  said.  'Merry Brandybuck  is looking out for a nice little hole for me, or perhaps a small house.'      As a matter of fact with  Merry's help he had already chosen and bought a little house  at Crickhollow in the country beyond Bucklebury. To all  but Sam he pretended he was going to settle down there permanently. The decision to set out eastwards had suggested the idea to him; for Buckland was on  the eastern borders  of  the Shire, and as he had lived there  in childhood  his going back would at least seem credible.      Gandalf  stayed in the Shire for over two months.  Then one evening, at the end of  June, soon  after Frodo's  plan  had  been finally  arranged, he suddenly  announced that  he was going off  again next morning.  'Only for a short  while, I hope,'  he said.  'But  I am  going down beyond the southern borders to get some news, if I can. I have been idle longer than I should.'      He spoke lightly, but it seemed to Frodo that he looked rather worried. 'Has anything happened?' he asked.      'Well no; but I have heard something that has made me anxious and needs looking into. If I think it necessary after all  for you to get off at once, I shall come back immediately, or at least send word. In the meanwhile stick to your plan; but be more careful than ever, especially of the  Ring. Let me impress on you once more: don't use it!'      He  went off at dawn.  'I may be back any day,'  he  said. 'At the very latest I shall come back  for  the farewell party. I think after all you may need my company on the Road.'      At first  Frodo  was a  good deal  disturbed,  and wondered often  what Gandalf could  have  heard; but his  uneasiness wore  off, and in  the  fine weather  he forgot his  troubles for a  while. The  Shire had seldom seen so fair a summer, or so rich an autumn: the trees were laden with apples, honey was dripping in the combs, and the corn was tall and full.      Autumn was well under  way  before  Frodo began to worry  about Gandalf again.  September  was  passing  and there  was  still no  news of him.  The Birthday, and the removal, drew  nearer, and still he did not come,  or send word.  Bag End began to be busy.  Some of Frodo's friends  came  to stay and help  him with the packing: there was Fredegar Bolger and Folco  Boffin, and
  124. of course his special friends Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck. Between them they turned the whole place upside-down.      On  September  20th  two  covered  carts  went off  laden  to Buckland, conveying  the furniture and goods that Frodo had not  sold to his new home, by way of the  Brandywine Bridge. The next day Frodo became  really anxious, and kept  a constant look-out  for  Gandalf. Thursday, his birthday morning, dawned as fair and  clear  as it had long ago for Bilbo's great party. Still Gandalf did not appear. In the evening Frodo gave his farewell feast: it was quite small, just  a  dinner  for himself  and his four helpers; but  he was troubled and fell in no mood for it. The thought  that he would so soon have to part  with his young  friends weighed  on his heart. He  wondered how  he would break it to them.      The four younger  hobbits were, however, in high spirits, and the party soon became very cheerful in spite of Gandalf's absence. The dining-room was bare except for a table  and  chairs,  but the food  was good, and there was good  wine:  Frodo's  wine  had  not  been  included  in  the  sale  to  the Sackville-Bagginses.      'Whatever happens to  the rest of my stuff, when the S.-B.s  get  their claws on  it, at any rate I have found a good home for this!' said Frodo, as he drained his glass. It was the last drop of Old Winyards.      When they had sung many songs, and talked of  many things they had done together,  they toasted  Bilbo's birthday, and  they  drank his  health  and Frodo's together according to Frodo's custom. Then they went out for a sniff of air, and glimpse of the stars, and then  they went to bed.  Frodo's party was over, and Gandalf had not come.      The next morning they were busy packing another cart with the remainder of the luggage. Merry took charge of this, and drove off with Fatty (that is Fredegar  Bolger).  'Someone must get there and  warm the house  before  you arrive,' said Merry. 'Well, see you later - the day  after tomorrow,  if you don't go to sleep on the way!'      Folco went  home  after lunch,  but Pippin remained behind.  Frodo  was restless and anxious,  listening in vain for a  sound of Gandalf. He decided to  wait until  nightfall. After that,  if  Gandalf wanted him urgently,  he would go to Crickhollow, and might even get there first. For Frodo was going on foot. His plan - for pleasure and a last look at the Shire as much as any other reason  -  was to walk from Hobbiton to  Bucklebury  Ferry, taking  it
  125. fairly easy.      'I shall  get  myself a bit  into  training,  too,' he said, looking at himself  in  a dusty mirror in the  half-empty  hall.  He  had  not done any strenuous walking for a long time, and the reflection  looked rather flabby, he thought.      After lunch, the Sackville-Bagginses, Lobelia and her sandy-haired son, Lotho, turned  up, much to Frodo's annoyance. 'Ours at last!' said  Lobelia, as she stepped inside. It was not polite; nor strictly true, for the sale of Bag  End  did not take effect  until  midnight.  But Lobelia  can perhaps be forgiven: she had been obliged to wait about seventy-seven years  longer for Bag End  than she once hoped, and she was now  a  hundred years old. Anyway, she had  come to see that nothing she had paid for had been carried off; and she wanted the keys. It took a long while to satisfy her, as she had brought a complete inventory  with her and went  right through  it. In  the end  she departed with Lotho and  the spare  key and  the promise that the  other key would  be  left at  the  Gamgees' in Bagshot Row.  She  snorted, and  showed plainly that she  thought the Gamgees  capable of plundering the hole during the night. Frodo did not offer her any tea.      He took his own tea with Pippin and Sam Gamgee  in the  kitchen. It had been  officially announced that Sam was coming to Buckland  'to  do for  Mr. Frodo and look after his bit of garden'; an arrangement that was approved by the Gaffer, though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia as a neighbour.      'Our  last meal at  Bag End!'  said Frodo, pushing back his chair. They left the washing up  for Lobelia.  Pippin  and Sam  strapped  up their three packs and piled them in the porch. Pippin went out for a last  stroll in the garden. Sam disappeared.      The sun went down. Bag End seemed sad and gloomy and dishevelled. Frodo wandered round the familiar rooms,  and saw the light  of the sunset fade on the walls,  and  shadows  creep out  of  the  corners.  It  grew slowly dark indoors. He went out and walked down to  the gate at the bottom of the path, and then on a short way down the Hill Road. He half expected to  see Gandalf come striding up through the dusk.      The sky was clear and the stars were growing bright. 'It's going  to be a fine night,'  he  said  aloud.  'That's good for a beginning.  I feel like
  126. walking. I  can't  bear any  more  hanging about. I am going  to start,  and Gandalf must follow  me.'  He  turned to go back, and  then  slopped, for he heard voices, just round the corner by the end of Bagshot Row. One voice was certainly the old Gaffer's; the other was strange, and  somehow  unpleasant. He could not make out what it said, but he heard the Gaffer's answers, which were rather shrill. The old man seemed put out.      'No, Mr. Baggins has gone away. Went this morning, and my Sam went with him: anyway all  his stuff went.  Yes, sold out and  gone,  I tell'ee.  Why? Why's none of my business, or yours.  Where to?  That ain't no  secret. He's moved to Bucklebury or some such place, away down yonder. Yes it is - a tidy way.  I've never been so far myself; they're  queer folks in Buckland. No, I can't give no message. Good night to you!'      Footsteps went away down the Hill. Frodo wondered vaguely why  the fact that they did not  come on up the Hill seemed a  great relief. 'I am sick of questions and curiosity  about my doings,  I  suppose,' he thought. 'What an inquisitive lot they all  are!' He had half a mind to go and ask  the Gaffer who the inquirer was; but he thought better (or worse) of it, and turned and walked quickly back to Bag End.      Pippin was sitting on his pack  in  the porch. Sam was not there. Frodo stepped inside the dark door. 'Sam!' he called. 'Sam! Time!'      'Coming, sir!' came  the answer  from far within, followed soon by  Sam himself, wiping his mouth. He had been saying farewell to the beer-barrel in the cellar.      'All aboard, Sam?' said Frodo.      'Yes, sir. I'll last for a bit now, sir.'      Frodo shut and locked the  round door, and  gave the key  to Sam.  'Run down with this to your home, Sam!' he said. 'Then cut along the Row and meet us as quick as you can at the gate in the  lane  beyond the meadows.  We are not  going  through  the village  tonight.  Too  many ears pricking and eyes prying.' Sam ran off at full speed.      'Well, now we're off at last!'  said Frodo. They shouldered their packs and took up their sticks, and  walked round the corner to the  west  side of Bag End. 'Good-bye!' said Frodo, looking at the dark blank windows. He waved his hand, and then turned and (following Bilbo, if  he had known it) hurried after Peregrin down  the garden-path. They jumped over the low place in  the
  127. hedge at the bottom and took to the fields, passing into the darkness like a rustle in the grasses.      At the bottom of the  Hill  on its western  side they came  to the gate opening on to a  narrow lane.  There they  halted and adjusted the straps of their packs. Presently  Sam  appeared, trotting quickly and  breathing hard; his heavy pack was hoisted high on his shoulders, and he had put on his head a tall shapeless fell  bag, which  he called  a hat. In the gloom  he looked very much like a dwarf.      'I am sure you  have given me all the heaviest stuff,'  said Frodo.  'I pity snails, and all that carry their homes on their backs.'      'I could take a lot  more yet, sir. My packet is quite light,' said Sam stoutly and untruthfully.      'No, you  don't,  Sam!' said  Pippin.  'It is  good  for him. He's  got nothing except what he ordered us to pack. He's been slack lately, and he'll feel the weight less when he's walked off some of his own.'      'Be kind to a poor old hobbit!' laughed Frodo. 'I shall be as thin as a willow-wand, I'm sure, before I get to Buckland. But I was talking nonsense. I suspect you have taken more than your share, Sam, and I shall look into it at our next  packing.'  He  picked  up his  stick  again. 'Well, we all like walking  in the dark,' he said,  'so let's put  some miles  behind us before bed.'      For a short way they followed  the lane westwards. Then leaving it they turned left and took quietly to  the  fields again. They went in single file along hedgerows and the borders of coppices, and night fell dark about them. In their  dark cloaks they were as invisible as if they all had magic rings. Since they were  all hobbits, and were  trying  to be silent,  they made  no noise that even hobbits would  hear. Even the wild things in  the fields and woods hardly noticed their passing.      After  some  time they crossed the Water, west of Hobbiton, by a narrow plank-bridge.  The stream  was  there no more than  a winding  black ribbon, bordered with leaning  alder-trees. A mile or two further south they hastily crossed the great  road  from  the Brandywine Bridge; they were  now in  the Tookland and  bending south-eastwards they made for the  Green Hill Country. As they began to climb its first slopes they looked back and  saw the  lamps in Hobbiton far off twinkling in  the gentle  valley of  the  Water. Soon it disappeared  in the  folds of the darkened land, and was followed by Bywater beside  its grey pool. When the  light of  the  last  farm was  far  behind,
  128. peeping among the trees, Frodo turned and waved a hand in farewell.      'I wonder if  I shall ever  look down into that valley  again,' he said quietly.      When they  had walked for about three hours they rested. The night  was clear,  cool, and starry, but smoke-like wisps of mist were creeping up  the hill-sides from the streams and deep  meadows. Thin-clad birches, swaying in a light wind  above their heads, made a black net against the pale sky. They ate a  very  frugal supper (for hobbits), and  then went on again. Soon they struck a narrow road, that  went rolling  up and down,  fading grey into the darkness ahead: the road to Woodhall, and  Stock, and the Bucklebury  Ferry. It climbed away from the  main road  in the Water-valley, and wound over the skirts  of  the  Green  Hills  towards  Woody-End,  a  wild  corner  of  the Eastfarthing.      After a while  they plunged into  a deeply  cloven  track  between tall trees that rustled their dry leaves in the night. It was very dark. At first they  talked,  or hummed a  tune  softly together, being  now far  away from inquisitive ears. Then they marched  on in silence,  and Pippin began to lag behind.  At  last, as  they began to  climb  a  steep slope, he  stopped and yawned.      'I  am  so sleepy,' he said,  'that soon I shall fall down on the road. Are you going to sleep on your legs? It is nearly midnight.'      'I thought you liked walking in the dark,' said Frodo. 'But there is no great  hurry.  Merry expects  us some time the day after  tomorrow; but that leaves us nearly two days more. We'll halt at the first likely spot.'      'The  wind's in  the West,' said Sam. 'If  we get to the other  side of this hill,  we shall find a spot  that  is  sheltered and snug  enough, sir. There is  a dry fir-wood just ahead,  if  I  remember rightly.' Sam knew the land well  within twenty miles of  Hobbiton, but that was  the  limit of his geography.      Just  over the  top  of  the  hill they came on  the patch of fir-wood. Leaving  the  road  they  went into  the deep resin-scented  darkness of the trees, and  gathered  dead  sticks and cones to make a fire. Soon they had a merry crackle of flame at the foot of a large fir-tree and they sat round it for  a while, until they began to nod. Then, each in an  angle  of the great tree's roots, they curled  up  in  their cloaks and blankets, and were  soon fast asleep. They set no  watch; even Frodo feared  no danger yet,  for they were still in  the heart  of the Shire. A few  creatures came and  looked at
  129. them when the fire had died away. A fox passing through the wood on business of his own stopped several minutes and sniffed.      'Hobbits!' he thought. 'Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings in this land,  but  I have  seldom  heard of a hobbit  sleeping out of doors under a tree. Three of them! There's something mighty queer behind this.' He was quite right, but he never found out any more about it.      The morning came,  pale and clammy. Frodo woke up first, and found that a tree-root had made a hole in his back, and that his neck was stiff.      'Walking for pleasure! Why didn't  I drive?'  he thought, as he usually did at the beginning of an expedition. 'And all  my  beautiful feather  beds are sold to the Sackville-Bagginses! These  tree-roots would  do them good.' He stretched. 'Wake up, hobbits!' he cried. It's a beautiful morning.'      'What's beautiful about it?' said Pippin, peering  over the edge of his blanket with one eye. 'Sam! Gel breakfast ready for half-past nine! Have you got the bath-water hot?'      Sam jumped up,  looking rather  bleary. 'No,  sir, I haven't, sir!'  he said.      Frodo stripped the blankets from Pippin and  rolled him  over, and then walked off to the edge of the wood. Away eastward the sun was rising red out of the mists that lay thick  on  the world. Touched  with  gold and red  the autumn trees seemed to  be sailing rootless in a shadowy sea. A little below him to the left the road ran down steeply into a hollow and disappeared.      When  he returned  Sam  and  Pippin had got a good fire going. 'Water!' shouted Pippin. 'Where's the water?'      'I  don't keep  water in my  pockets,' said  Frodo. 'We thought you had gone to find  some,' said Pippin, busy  setting out the food, and cups. 'You had better go now.'      'You  can come too,'  said  Frodo, 'and  bring  all the water-bottles.' There was  a stream at the foot of the hill. They  filled their  bottles and the small  camping kettle at a little fall  where the water fell  a few feet over an outcrop  of grey stone. It  was  icy cold;  and they spluttered  and puffed as they bathed their faces and hands.      When their breakfast was over, and their packs all trussed up again, it was after  ten o'clock, and the day was beginning to turn fine and hot. They went  down the slope, and across the stream where  it  dived under the road, and up the next slope, and up and down another shoulder of the hills; and by that time their cloaks, blankets, water, food, and other gear already seemed
  130. a heavy burden.      The day's march promised to be warm and tiring  work. After some miles, however, the road  ceased to roll up and  down: it climbed  to the  top of a steep bank in a weary zig-zagging sort of way, and then prepared to  go down for  the last time. In front of  them they saw  the lower lands  dotted with small clumps of  trees that melted away in  the distance to a brown woodland haze. They were looking across the  Woody End towards  the Brandywine River. The road wound away before them like a piece of string.      'The road goes on  for ever,' said Pippin; 'but I can't without a rest. It is  high time for lunch.' He sat down on the bank at the side of the road and looked  away east into the haze, beyond which lay the River, and the end of the Shire in which he had spent all his life. Sam stood by him. His round eyes were wide open - for he was looking across lands he had never seen to a new horizon.      'Do Elves live in those woods?' he asked.      'Not that I ever  heard,' said Pippin.  Frodo  was silent.  He  too was gazing eastward along the road, as if he had never seen it  before. Suddenly he spoke, aloud but as if to himself, saying slowly:      The Road goes ever on and on      Down from the door where it began.      Now far ahead the Road has gone,      And I must follow, if I can,      Pursuing it with weary feet,      Until it joins some larger way,      Where many paths and errands meet.      And whither then? I cannot say.      'That sounds like a bit of old Bilbo's rhyming,' said Pippin. 'Or is it one of your imitations? It does not sound altogether encouraging.'      'I don't know,' said Frodo. It came to me then, as  if I was making  it up; but I  may have heard it long ago. Certainly it reminds  me very much of Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was only  one  Road;  that it was like a great river: its  springs were at every doorstep,  and every path was  its  tributary. "It's  a dangerous  business, Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet,  there is no knowing where  you might  be swept off to.  Do you realize  that  this  is the  very  path  that  goes  through
  131. Mirkwood,  and that if you let it, it  might take you to the Lonely Mountain or  even  further and to worse places?"  He  used to say  that  on  the path outside the  front door at  Bag End, especially  after he had been out for a long walk.'      'Well,  the Road won't sweep me  anywhere for an  hour  at least,' said Pippin, unslinging his pack. The others followed his example,  putting their packs against the bank and their  legs out  into the road. After a rest they had a good lunch, and then more rest.      The sun was beginning to get  low and the light of afternoon was on the land as they went down the hill. So far they had not met a soul on the road. This way was not much used, being hardly fit for carts, and there was little traffic to  the Woody End. They had been jogging along again for an hour  or more when Sam  stopped a  moment as  if  listening. They were  now on  level ground,  and  the  road  after  much  winding  lay  straight  ahead  through grass-land sprinkled with tall trees, outliers of the approaching woods.      'I can hear a pony or a horse coming along the road behind,' said Sam.      They  looked back, but the turn of the  road prevented them from seeing far. 'I wonder if that  is Gandalf coming after us,' said Frodo; but even as he said it, he had a feeling that it was not so, and a sudden desire to hide from the view of the rider came over him.      'It  may not matter much,' he  said apologetically, 'but I would rather not be seen on the  road - by anyone. I am  sick of my  doings being noticed and discussed. And if  it is Gandalf,' he added as  an afterthought, 'we can give him  a little surprise, to pay him out for being so late. Let's get out of sight!'      The other two ran quickly to the left and down into a little hollow not far  from the  road. There  they lay  flat. Frodo  hesitated  for  a second: curiosity or some other feeling was struggling with his desire  to hide. The sound of hoofs drew nearer. Just in time he threw himself down in a patch of long grass behind a tree that overshadowed the road. Then he lifted his head and peered cautiously above one of the great roots.      Round the  corner came  a black horse, no hobbit-pony  but a full-sized horse;  and  on  it sat  a large man,  who seemed to  crouch in  the saddle, wrapped in a great black cloak and  hood, so that only his boots in the high stirrups showed below; his face was shadowed and invisible.      When it reached the  tree and was level with Frodo  the  horse stopped. The riding figure sat quite still with its head bowed, as if listening. From
  132. inside the hood came  a  noise as of  someone sniffing to  catch an  elusive scent; the head turned from side to side of the road.      A sudden  unreasoning  fear of  discovery laid hold  of Frodo,  and  he thought  of his Ring. He hardly dared to breathe,  and yet the desire to get it out of his pocket became so strong that he began slowly to move his hand. He felt  that  he had only to  slip  it on, and then he  would  be safe. The advice of Gandalf seemed absurd. Bilbo had used the Ring. 'And I am still in the Shire,' he thought, as his hand touched the chain on  which  it hung. At that moment  the  rider  sat up,  and  shook the  reins.  The  horse stepped forward, walking slowly at first, and then breaking into a quick trot.      Frodo crawled to  the edge of the road and watched the rider,  until he dwindled into the distance. He could not be quite sure, but it seemed to him that suddenly, before it  passed out  of sight,  the horse turned aside  and went into the trees on the right.      'Well, I  call that very queer, and indeed disturbing,' said  Frodo  to himself, as he  walked towards his companions. Pippin and  Sam  had remained flat  in the  grass, and had seen nothing; so Frodo  described the rider and his strange behaviour.      'I can't say why, but I felt certain he was looking or smelling for me; and also I felt certain that I did  not want him to discover  me. I've never seen or fell anything like it in the Shire before.'      'But what has  one of the Big  People got  to do with us?' said Pippin. 'And what is he doing in this part of the world?'      'There are some Men about,' said Frodo. 'Down in the Southfarthing they have  had trouble  with Big  People,  I believe. But I have  never heard  of anything like this rider. I wonder where he comes from.'      'Begging  your  pardon,' put  in Sam  suddenly,  'I know where he comes from. It's from Hobbiton that  this here black  rider comes, unless  there's more than one. And I know where he's going to.'      'What do you mean?' said Frodo sharply, looking at him in astonishment. 'Why didn't you speak up before?'      'I have only just remembered, sir. It was like this: when I got back to our  hole yesterday evening with the key, my dad, he says to me: Hello, Sam! he says. I thought you were away with Mr. Frodo this morning. There's been a strange customer asking for Mr. Baggins of Bag End, and he's only just gone. I've sent him on to Bucklebury. Not that I liked the sound of him. He seemed mighty put out, when I told him Mr. Baggins had  left his old home for good.
  133. Hissed at me, he did.  It gave me quite a shudder. What sort of a fellow was he? says I to the Gaffer. / don't know,  says he; but he wasn't a hobbit. He was tall and black-like, and he  stooped aver me. I reckon it was one of the Big Folk from foreign parts. He spoke funny.      'I  couldn't stay  to  hear more, sir, since  you were  waiting; and  I didn't give much heed to it myself. The Gaffer is getting old, and more than a bit blind,  and it  must have been  near dark when this fellow come up the Hill  and  found him taking the air at the end of our Row. I hope  he hasn't done no harm, sir, nor me.'      'The Gaffer can't be blamed anyway,' said Frodo. 'As a matter of fact I heard him talking to a  stranger, who  seemed to  be inquiring for me, and I nearly went and asked him who it was. I wish I had, or you had told me about it before. I might have been more careful on the road.'      'Still, there may be no connexion between  this rider and the  Gaffer's stranger,' said Pippin. 'We left Hobbiton  secretly enough, and  I don't see how he could have followed us.'      'What about the smelling, sir?' said Sam. 'And the Gaffer said he was a black chap.'      'I wish  I had  waited  for  Gandalf,' Frodo  muttered. 'But perhaps it would only have made matters worse.'      'Then you know  or guess something about this  rider?' said Pippin, who had caught the muttered words.      'I don't know, and I would rather  not guess,'  said Frodo. 'All right, cousin Frodo! You can  keep your  secret for the present,  if you want to be mysterious. In the meanwhile what are we to do? I should like a  bite and  a sup,  but somehow  I think  we had better move on from here.  Your  talk  of sniffing riders with invisible noses has unsettled me.'      'Yes, I think we  will move on now,' said Frodo;  'but  not on the road -in case  that rider comes back, or another  follows him. We  ought to do  a good step more today. Buckland is still miles away.'      The shadows  of  the trees  were long and  thin  on the  grass, as they started off again. They now kept  a stone's throw to  the left of  the road, and kept out of sight of it as much  as they  could. But this hindered them; for the grass was thick and  tussocky, and the ground uneven, and the  trees began to draw together into thickets.      The sun had gone down  red behind the hills at their backs, and evening was coming on before they came back to the road at the end of the long level
  134. over which  it had run straight for  some miles.  At that point it bent left and  went down into the lowlands of  the Yale  making for Stock;  but a lane branched right, winding  through a  wood of ancient oak-trees on its way  to Woodhall. 'That is the way for us,' said Frodo.      Not far from the road-meeting they came on the huge hulk  of a tree: it was  still alive  and had leaves  on  the small branches that it had put out round the  broken  stumps of its long-fallen limbs; but it  was hollow,  and could  be entered  by  a great  crack  on the  side  away from the road. The hobbits crept inside, and sat there upon a floor  of old leaves and  decayed wood.  They rested and had a light  meal, talking quietly and listening from time to time.      Twilight  was about  them as they crept back to the lane. The West wind was sighing in the branches. Leaves were whispering. Soon the  road began to fall gently but steadily into the dusk. A  star  came out above the trees in the darkening East before them.  They went  abreast  and in step, to keep up their spirits.  After  a time, as the stars  grew thicker and  brighter, the feeling of disquiet left them, and they no longer listened  for the sound of hoofs. They began to hum softly, as hobbits have a way of doing as they walk along,  especially  when  they  are drawing near to home at night. With most hobbits  it  is  a supper-song  or a bed-song;  but these  hobbits  hummed a walking-song (though not, of course, without any mention of supper and bed). Bilbo Baggins had made the words, to a tune  that  was as old as  the hills, and taught  it to Frodo as they walked in the  lanes of the Water-valley and talked about Adventure.      Upon the hearth the fire is red,      Beneath the roof there is a bed;      But not yet weary are our feet,      Still round the corner we may meet      A sudden tree or standing stone      That none have seen but we alone.      Tree and flower and leaf and grass,      Let them pass! Let them pass!      Hill and water under sky,      Pass them by! Pass them by!
  135.  
  136.      Still round the corner there may wait      A new road or a secret gate,
  137.      And though we pass them by today,      Tomorrow we may come this way      And take the hidden paths that run      Towards the Moon or to the Sun.      Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,      Let them go! Let them go!      Sand and stone and pool and dell,      Fare you well! Fare you well!
  138.  
  139.      Home is behind, the world ahead,      And there are many paths to tread      Through shadows to the edge of night,      Until the stars are all alight.      Then world behind and home ahead,      We'll wander back to home and bed.      Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,      Away shall fade! Away shall fade!      Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,      And then to bed! And then to bed!      The song ended. 'And now to bed! And now to bed!' sang Pippin in a high voice.      'Hush!' said Frodo. 'I think I hear hoofs again.'      They slopped suddenly  and  stood as silent as tree-shadows, listening. There was a sound of hoofs in the lane, some way behind, but coming slow and clear down the wind. Quickly and quietly they slipped off the path, and  ran into the deeper shade under the oak-trees.      'Don't let  us go too far!' said Frodo. 'I don't want to be seen, but I want to see if it is another Black Rider.'      'Very well!' said Pippin. 'But don't forget the sniffing!'      The hoofs drew nearer. They had no time to find any hiding-place better than the general  darkness under the trees; Sam and Pippin crouched behind a large tree-bole, while  Frodo  crept back a few yards  towards  the lane. It showed grey and pale, a line  of fading light through the wood. Above it the stars were thick in the dim sky, but there was no moon.      The sound of hoofs stopped. As Frodo watched he saw something dark pass across  the lighter  space between two trees, and then halt. It looked  like the  black shade of a horse led by a smaller black  shadow. The black shadow
  140. stood close  to the point where they had left the  path, and it  swayed from side to side. Frodo thought he heard the sound of snuffling. The shadow bent to the ground, and then began to crawl towards him.      Once more the desire to slip on the Ring came over Frodo; but this time it was stronger than before. So strong that, almost before he  realized what he was  doing, his hand was groping  in his pocket. But at that moment there came  a sound  like mingled song and laughter. Clear voices rose and fell in the starlit air. The black shadow straightened up and retreated.  It climbed on to the  shadowy  horse  and  seemed  to  vanish  across the lane into the darkness on the other side. Frodo breathed again.      'Elves!' exclaimed Sam in a hoarse whisper. 'Elves, sir!' He would have burst  out of the trees and dashed off towards  the voices, if they  had not pulled him back.      'Yes,  it  is Elves,' said  Frodo. 'One can meet them sometimes  in the Woody End.  They don't live in the Shire, but they  wander into it in Spring and  Autumn,  out  of their own  lands away  beyond the  Tower Hills.  I  am thankful that they do! You did not  see, but  that Black  Rider stopped just here and was actually crawling towards us when the song began. As soon as he heard the voices he slipped away.'      'What  about the Elves?'  said  Sam, too  excited  to trouble about the rider. 'Can't we go and see them?'      'Listen! They are coming this way,' said Frodo. 'We have only to wait.' The singing drew nearer. One clear voice rose now above  the others.  It was singing in the fair elven-tongue, of which Frodo knew only a little, and the others knew nothing. Yet  the sound blending with the melody seemed to shape itself  in their thought into words which they only partly understood.  This was the song as Frodo heard it:      Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!      O Queen beyond the Western Seas!      O Light to us that wander here      Amid the world of woven trees!
  141.  
  142.      Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!      Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!      Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee      In a far land beyond the Sea.
  143.  
  144.      O stars that in the Sunless Year      With shining hand by her were sawn,      In windy fields now bright and clear      We see your silver blossom blown!
  145.  
  146.      O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!      We still remember, we who dwell      In this far land beneath the trees,      Thy starlight on the Western Seas.      The  song  ended.  'These  are High  Elves!  They  spoke  the  name  of Elbereth!' said Frodo in amazement,  'Few of that fairest folk are ever seen in the Shire. Not many now remain in Middle-earth,  east  of the  Great Sea. This is indeed a strange chance!'      The hobbits  sat in shadow  by the wayside. Before long the Elves  came down the lane towards the valley. They  passed slowly, and the hobbits could see the starlight glimmering on their hair and  in their  eyes. They bore no lights,  yet as they walked a  shimmer, like the light of the moon above the rim of the hills before it rises, seemed to fall about their feet. They were now silent, and  as the last Elf  passed  he turned  and looked  towards the hobbits and laughed.      'Hail,  Frodo!' he  cried. 'You  are  abroad  late. Or are  you perhaps lost?'  Then he called aloud  to the others, and all the company stopped and gathered round.      'This  is indeed  wonderful!'  they  said. 'Three hobbits in  a wood at night! We  have not seen  such a thing  since Bilbo went away.  What is  the meaning of it?'      'The meaning of it, fair people,'  said Frodo, 'is simply that  we seem to be going the same  way as you are. I like  walking under the stars. But I would welcome your company.'      'But we have no need of other company, and hobbits are  so  dull,' they laughed. 'And how do you know that we go the same way as you, for you do not know whither we are going?'      'And how do you know my name?' asked Frodo in return.      'We know many things,'  they said. 'We have seen you often before  with Bilbo, though you may not have seen us.'      'Who are you, and who is your lord?' asked Frodo.
  147.      'I am Gildor,' answered their leader, the Elf who had first hailed him. 'Gildor Inglorion of  the  House  of Finrod. We are Exiles, and most of  our kindred have long  ago  departed and  we  too are  now only  tarrying here a while, ere we return  over the Great Sea.  But some  of  our kinsfolk  dwell still  in peace in Rivendell.  Come now, Frodo, tell us what you  are doing? For we see that there is some shadow of fear upon you.'      'O Wise  People!' interrupted Pippin eagerly. 'Tell us about  the Black Riders!'      'Black Riders?' they said  in  low voices. 'Why  do you ask about Black Riders?'      'Because two Black Riders have  overtaken us today,  or one has done so twice,' said Pippin;  'only a little while ago  he slipped away as you  drew near.'      The Elves did not answer at  once, but spoke together  softly  in their own tongue.  At length Gildor turned to the  hobbits. 'We  will not speak of this here,' he said. 'We think you had  best come now with us. It is not our custom, but for this time we will lake you on our road, and  you shall lodge with us tonight, if you will.'      'O Fair  Folk!  This is good fortune beyond my hope,' said  Pippin. Sam was speechless.  'I  thank you indeed, Gildor Inglorion,' said Frodo bowing. 'Elen snla l®menn' omentielvo, a star shines on the hour of our meeting,' he added in the high-elven speech.      'Be careful,  friends!' cried  Gildor laughing. 'Speak no secrets! Here is  a  scholar in  the  Ancient  Tongue.  Bilbo  was a  good  master.  Hail, Elf-friend!' he said, bowing to Frodo.  'Come now with your friends and join our company! You had best walk in the middle so  that you may not stray. You may be weary before we halt.'      'Why? Where are you going?' asked Frodo.      'For tonight we go to the woods on the hills above Woodhall. It is some miles, but  you shall have  rest at the  end of it, and it will shorten your journey tomorrow.'      They now marched on again in silence, and passed like shadows and faint lights: for  Elves  (even  more  than hobbits)  could walk when they  wished without sound or footfall.  Pippin soon began  to feel sleepy, and staggered once  or twice; but each time a tall Elf at his side  put out  his  arm  and saved him from a  fall. Sam walked along at Frodo's side, as if in a  dream, with an expression on his face half of fear and half of astonished joy.
  148.      The  woods on either side became denser; the trees were now younger and thicker;  and as the lane went lower, running down into a fold of the hills, there were many deep brakes of hazel on the rising slopes at either hand. At last the Elves turned aside from the path.  A  green ride  lay almost unseen through the  thickets on the right; and this they  followed as it wound away back up the  wooded slopes on to the  top of a shoulder of  the  hills  that stood out into the lower land of the river-valley. Suddenly they came out of the shadow of  the trees, and  before them lay a  wide space of  grass, grey under the night. On three sides the woods  pressed upon it; but eastward the ground fell steeply and the tops of the dark trees, growing at the bottom of the slope,  were  below their feet. Beyond, the  low lands  lay dim and flat under the stars.  Nearer  at hand  a few lights twinkled  in the village  of Woodhall.      The  Elves sat on  the grass  and spoke  together in  soft voices; they seemed to take no further  notice of the hobbits.  Frodo and his  companions wrapped themselves in cloaks and blankets, and drowsiness stole  over  them. The  night grew  on,  and  the  lights in the valley  went out. Pippin  fell asleep, pillowed on a green hillock.      Away  high  in the East swung Remmirath,  the Netted Stars,  and slowly above  the mists red Borgil rose, glowing like a jewel of fire. Then by some shift of airs all the mist was drawn away like a veil, and there leaned  up, as  he  climbed  over the  rim  of the  world, the  Swordsman  of  the  Sky, Menelvagor with  his shining  belt. The  Elves all burst into song. Suddenly under the trees a fire sprang up with a red light.      'Come!' the  Elves called to the hobbits. 'Come!  Now is  the time  for speech and merriment!'      Pippin sat up and rubbed his eyes. He shivered. 'There is a fire in the hall, and food for hungry guests,' said an Elf standing before him.      At the south  end of the greensward  there  was an opening.  There  the green  floor  ran on into the wood, and formed a  wide  space like  a  hall, roofed by the boughs of trees. Their great trunks ran like pillars down each side. In the middle there was a wood-fire blazing, and upon the tree-pillars torches with lights of gold and silver were burning  steadily. The Elves sat round the  fire upon the grass or  upon the  sawn  rings of old trunks. Some went  to  and  fro bearing cups and  pouring  drink; others brought  food on heaped plates and dishes.      'This  is poor fare,' they said  to the hobbits; 'for we are lodging in
  149. the greenwood far from  our halls. If ever  you are our guests at  home,  we will treat you better.'      'It seems to me good enough for a birthday-party,' said Frodo.      Pippin afterwards recalled little of either food or drink, for his mind was  filled  with the  light upon the elf-faces, and the  sound of voices so various and so beautiful that he felt in a waking  dream.  But he remembered that there was bread, surpassing the savour of a fair white  loaf to one who is starving;  and fruits  sweet  as  wildberries  and richer than the tended fruits of gardens; he drained a cup that was filled with a fragrant draught, cool as a clear fountain, golden as a summer afternoon.      Sam could never describe in words, nor picture clearly to himself, what he felt or thought that  night, though it remained in  his  memory as one of the chief  events of his life.  The  nearest he  ever got was to say: 'Well, sir, if I could grow  apples like that, I would call  myself a gardener. But it was the singing that went to my heart, if you know what I mean.'      Frodo sat, eating, drinking, and talking with delight; but his mind was chiefly on the words spoken. He knew a little of the elf-speech and listened eagerly. Now and again he spoke to those that served him and thanked them in their own language. They smiled at  him  and said laughing: 'Here is a jewel among hobbits!'      After a while Pippin fell fast asleep, and was lifted up and borne away to a bower under the trees; there he was laid upon a soft bed and  slept the rest  of the night away. Sam refused to  leave  his  master. When Pippin had gone, he came and sat curled up at Frodo's feet, where at last he nodded and closed his eyes. Frodo remained long awake, talking with Gildor.      They  spoke of many things, old  and new,  and Frodo questioned  Gildor much about happenings  in the wide world outside the Shire. The tidings were mostly  sad and ominous: of  gathering  darkness, the wars  of Men,  and the flight of the Elves. At last Frodo asked  the question  that  was nearest to his heart:      'Tell me, Gildor, have you ever seen Bilbo since he left us?'      Gildor  smiled.  'Yes,' he answered.  'Twice. He said farewell to us on this very  spot. But I saw  him once again, far  from here.' He would say no more about Bilbo, and Frodo fell silent.      'You do not ask me or tell me much that concerns yourself, Frodo,' said Gildor. 'But I already know a little, and I  can read more in your  face and in the thought behind your questions. You are leaving the Shire, and yet you
  150. doubt that you will find  what you seek, or accomplish what  you intend,  or that you will ever return. Is not that so?'      'It is,' said Frodo; 'but I thought my going was a secret known only to Gandalf and my faithful Sam.' He looked down at Sam, who was snoring gently.      'The secret will not reach the Enemy from us,' said Gildor.      'The Enemy?' said Frodo. 'Then you know why I am leaving the Shire?'      'I  do not know  for what  reason the Enemy is pursuing you,'  answered Gildor; 'but I perceive that he is - strange indeed though that seems to me. And I warn  you  that peril is now both before you  and behind you, and upon either side.'      'You  mean the Riders? I feared  that  they were servants of the Enemy. What are the Black Riders?'      'Has Gandalf told you nothing?'      'Nothing about such creatures.'      'Then I think it  is not  for me to say more  - lest terror should keep you from your journey. For it seems to me that you have set out only just in time, if  indeed you are in time. You must now make  haste, and neither stay nor turn back; for the Shire is no longer any protection to you.'      'I cannot  imagine what information could be more terrifying  than your hints  and warnings,' exclaimed Frodo. 'I knew  that  danger lay  ahead,  of course; but I did not expect to  meet it in  our  own Shire.  Can't a hobbit walk from the Water to the River in peace?'      'But  it is not your own Shire,' said Gildor. 'Others dwelt here before hobbits were; and others will dwell here again when hobbits are no more. The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for ever fence it out.'      'I know - and yet it has always seemed so safe and familiar. What can I do  now?  My  plan was  to  leave  the Shire  secretly, and  make my  way to Rivendell; but now my footsteps are dogged, before ever I get to Buckland.'      'I  think you should still follow that  plan,'  said Gildor.  'I do not think the Road  will prove too  hard for  your courage. But  if  you  desire clearer counsel, you should ask  Gandalf. I do not know the reason  for your flight, and therefore I do not know by what means your  pursuers will assail you. These things Gandalf must know. I suppose that you  will see him before you leave the Shire?'      'I hope so. But that is another  thing that  makes  me anxious. I  have
  151. been expecting Gandalf for many days. He was to have come to Hobbiton at the latest two  nights  ago; but he has  never appeared. Now I am wondering what can have happened. Should I wait for him?'      Gildor  was silent for a moment. 'I do not like this news,' he said  at last.  'That Gandalf should be late, does not  bode well. But it is said: Do not meddle  in  the  affairs  of Wizards, for they  are subtle  and quick to anger. The choice is yours: to go or wait.'      'And  it  is also  said,'  answered  Frodo:  'Go not  to the  Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes.'      'Is it  indeed?' laughed Gildor. 'Elves  seldom give  unguarded advice, for advice is a  dangerous gift,  even from  the  wise to the wise, and  all courses may run ill. But what would you? You have not told me all concerning yourself; and how then shall  I choose better  than you? But if  you  demand advice, I will for friendship's sake give it.  I think you  should now go at once, without delay; and if Gandalf does not come before you set out, then I also advise  this:  do not  go  alone. Take such friends  as are trusty  and willing. Now you should be grateful, for I do  not give this counsel gladly. The Elves have their  own labours and their own sorrows, and they are little concerned  with the ways of  hobbits,  or of any other creatures upon earth. Our  paths cross theirs seldom, by chance or purpose. In this meeting  there may be more than chance; but the purpose  is not clear to  me, and I fear to say too much.'      'I am  deeply grateful,' said  Frodo;  'but  I  wish you would  tell me plainly what the  Black  Riders  are. If I  take your  advice I may not  see Gandalf for  a  long while,  and I ought to know what  is  the  danger  that pursues me.'      'Is  it not  enough to  know  that they  are servants  of  the  Enemy?' answered Gildor. 'Flee them! Speak no words to them! They are deadly. Ask no more of me! But my heart forbodes that, ere all is ended, you,  Frodo son of Drogo, will  know more  of  these  fell things than  Gildor  Inglorion.  May Elbereth protect you!'      'But where shall I find courage?' asked Frodo. 'That is what I  chiefly need.'      'Courage is found in unlikely places,' said  Gildor. 'Be  of good hope! Sleep now! In the morning we shall have gone; but we will send our  messages
  152. through  the lands.  The Wandering Companies shall know of your journey, and those that have power for good shall be on the watch. I name you Elf-friend; and  may the stars shine upon the end  of your road! Seldom have we had such delight in strangers,  and it  is  fair to hear words  of the Ancient Speech from the lips of other wanderers in the world.'      Frodo felt sleep coming upon him, even as Gildor  finished speaking. 'I will sleep now,' he said; and the  Elf led him to a bower beside Pippin, and he threw himself upon a bed and fell at once into a dreamless slumber.
  153.  
  154.  
  155.  
  156. Chapter 4. A Short Cut to Mushrooms
  157.  
  158.  
  159.      In the morning Frodo woke refreshed. He was lying in  a bower made by a living tree  with branches laced  and drooping to the ground; his bed was of fern and grass,  deep and soft  and  strangely fragrant. The sun was shining through  the fluttering leaves,  which were still green  upon the  tree.  He jumped up and went out.      Sam  was  sitting  on the grass near the  edge  of the wood. Pippin was standing studying the sky and weather. There was no sign of the Elves.      'They have left us fruit  and drink, and bread,' said Pippin. 'Come and have your breakfast. The bread tastes almost as good as it did last night. I did not want to leave you any, but Sam insisted.'      Frodo  sat  down  beside  Sam and began  to eat. 'What is the  plan for today?' asked Pippin.      'To  walk  to Bucklebury as  quickly as possible,'  answered Frodo, and gave his attention to the food.      'Do you think  we shall see  anything  of  those Riders?' asked  Pippin cheerfully. Under  the  morning  sun the prospect of seeing a whole troop of them did not seem very alarming to him.      'Yes, probably,' said Frodo, not liking  the reminder. 'But  I  hope to get across the river without their seeing us.'      'Did you find out anything about them from Gildor?'      'Not much - only hints and riddles,' said Frodo evasively. 'Did you ask about the sniffing?'      'We didn't discuss it,' said Frodo with his mouth full.      'You should have. I am sure it is very important.'      'In that case I am sure Gildor would have refused  to explain it,' said Frodo sharply. 'And now leave me in peace  for a bit! I don't want to answer a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think!'      'Good heavens!' said Pippin. 'At breakfast?' He walked away towards the edge of the green.      From Frodo's mind the bright morning - treacherously bright, he thought - had not banished the fear of pursuit; and he pondered the words of Gildor. The merry voice of Pippin came to him. He was running  on the green turf and singing.
  160.      'No!  I could  not!' he said  to  himself.  'It is one thing to take my young friends walking over the Shire with me, until we are hungry and weary, and food  and  bed are  sweet.  To  take them into exile,  where  hunger and weariness may have  no cure,  is quite another - even if they are willing to come. The inheritance  is mine  alone.  I don't think I  ought  even to take Sam.' He looked at Sam Gamgee, and discovered that Sam was watching him.      'Well, Sam!' he said. 'What about it? I am leaving the Shire as soon as ever I  can - in fact I  have made up my mind now not even to wait  a day at Crickhollow, if it can be helped.'      'Very good, sir!'      'You still mean to come with me?'      'I do.'      'It  is going to be very dangerous, Sam. 'It is already dangerous. Most likely neither of us will come back.'      'If you don't come back, sir, then I shan't, that's certain,' said Sam. 'Don't you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I am  going  with  him, if  he climbs to the Moon,  and if  any of those Black Rulers try to stop him, they'll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with, I said. They laughed.'      'Who are they, and what are you talking about?'      'The  Elves, sir. We had some talk last night; and  they seemed to know you were going away, so I didn't see the use of denying  it. Wonderful folk, Elves, sir! Wonderful!'      'They are,' said Frodo.  'Do you like  them still,  now  you have had a closer view?'      'They  seem a bit above my likes and dislikes,  so  to speak,' answered Sam slowly. 'It don't seem to matter what I think about them. They are quite different from what I expected - so old and young, and so gay and sad, as it were.'      Frodo looked at Sam rather startled, half expecting to see some outward sign of the odd change that seemed  to have come  over him. It did not sound like the voice of the old Sam Gamgee that he thought he  knew. But it looked like the old  Sam Gamgee sitting  there, except that  his face was unusually thoughtful.      'Do  you feel any  need to  leave the Shire now - now that your wish to see them has come true already?' he asked.      'Yes,  sir. I  don't  know how to  say it, but after last night  I feel
  161. different. I seem to see ahead, in a kind  of way.  I know  we are going  to take a very long road, into darkness; but I know I can't turn back. It isn't to see Elves now, nor dragons, nor mountains, that  I want - I don't rightly know what I  want: but I  have something to do before the end, and  it  lies ahead, not in the Shire. I must see it through, sir, if you understand me.'      'I don't  altogether.  But I  understand  that Gandalf chose me a  good companion. I am content. We will go together.'      Frodo finished his  breakfast in silence.  Then standing  up he  looked over the land ahead, and called to Pippin.      'All ready to start?' he said as Pippin ran up. 'We must be getting off at once. We slept late; and there are a good many miles to go.'      'You slept  late, you mean,' said Pippin. 'I was up long before; and we are only waiting for you to finish eating and thinking.'      'I  have finished both now. And I am going to make for Bucklebury Ferry as quickly  as possible. I am not  going out of the way, back to the road we left last night: I am going to cut straight across country from here.'      'Then you are going to fly,'  said Pippin.  'You  won't cut straight on foot anywhere in this country.'      'We  can  cut  straighter than the road anyway,'  answered  Frodo. 'The Ferry is east from Woodhall;  but the hard road curves away to the left -you can see a bend of it away north over there. It goes round  the north  end of the Marish so as to  strike  the causeway from  the  Bridge above Stock. But that is miles out of the way.  We could save a quarter of the distance if we made a line for the Ferry from where we stand.'      'Short cuts make  long delays,' argued  Pippin. 'The  country  is rough round  here, and  there are bogs and  all  kinds of difficulties down in the Marish -I know the land  in these parts. And if you are worrying about Black Riders, I can't  see that it is any worse meeting  them on  a road than in a wood or a field.'      'It is  less  easy  to find people in the  woods and  fields,' answered Frodo. 'And if you are supposed to be on the road, there is some chance that you will be looked for on the road and not off it.'      'All right!' said Pippin. 'I will follow  you into every bog and ditch. But it is  hard! I had counted  on  passing the Golden Perch at Stock before sundown. The best beer in the Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time since I tasted it.'      'That settles it!'  said Frodo. 'Short cuts  make delays, but inns make
  162. longer  ones. At all costs we must  keep  you away from the Golden Perch. We want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam?'      'I  will go  along with you, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam (in spite of  private misgiving and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing).      'Then  if we are going to toil  through bog and briar, let's  go  now!' said Pippin.      It was  already nearly as hot as it had been the day before; but clouds were  beginning  to come up from the West. It looked likely to turn to rain. The hobbits scrambled down a steep  green  bank and  plunged into the  thick trees below. Their course  had been chosen to  leave Woodhall to their left, and  to cut slanting through the woods that clustered along the eastern side of  the  hills,  until they reached the flats  beyond. Then they  could make straight  for the Ferry over country that was open, except for a few ditches and fences. Frodo reckoned they had eighteen miles to go in a straight line.      He soon found that the thicket was closer and more tangled than it  had appeared. There were no paths  in the  undergrowth, and they did not  get on very  fast.  When they had struggled to the bottom of the bank, they found a stream  running  down from  the hills behind in a deeply dug bed with  steep slippery sides overhung with brambles. Most inconveniently it cut across the line they had chosen. They could  not jump over it, nor indeed get across it at  all without  getting wet, scratched, and muddy.  They  halted, wondering what to do. 'First check!' said Pippin, smiling grimly.      Sam Gamgee  looked back.  Through an opening  in  the trees he caught a glimpse of the top of the green bank from which they had climbed down.      'Look!'  he said, clutching  Frodo by the  arm. They all looked, and on the edge high above  them they saw against the sky a horse  standing. Beside it stooped a black figure.      They  at once gave  up any  idea of going back. Frodo led  the way, and plunged quickly into the  thick bushes beside the stream. 'Whew!' he said to Pippin. 'We were both right! The short cut has gone crooked already; but  we got under  cover only just in time. You've got sharp ears, Sam: can you hear anything coming?'      They  stood still,  almost holding  their breath as  they listened; but there was  no sound  of pursuit. 'I  don't fancy  he  would try bringing his horse down that bank,' said Sam. 'But I guess he  knows we came down it.  We had better be going on.'      Going  on was  not altogether easy.  They had packs  to carry,  and the
  163. bushes and  brambles were reluctant to  let  them through. They were cut off from the wind by  the ridge behind, and the air  was still  and stuffy. When they forced their way at last into more open ground, they were hot and tired and very scratched, and they were also no longer certain of the direction in which they  were  going.  The banks of  the stream sank,  as it reached  the levels and  became broader  and shallower,  wandering off towards the Marish and the River.      'Why,  this  is  the Stock-brook!' said Pippin. 'If we are going to try and get back on to our course, we must cross at once and bear right.'      They waded  the  stream, and hurried over a wide open space, rush-grown and treeless, on the  further side. Beyond that they came again to a belt of trees: tall oaks, for the most part, with here  and there an elm tree or  an ash. The ground was fairly level, and  there was little undergrowth; but the trees were loo close for them to see far  ahead.  The leaves blew upwards in sudden gusts of wind, and spots of rain began to fall from the overcast sky. Then the wind died away and the rain came streaming down. They trudged along as fast as they could, over patches of grass, and through  thick  drifts  of old leaves; and all about them the rain pattered  and trickled. They did not talk, but kept glancing back, and from side to side.      After  half an hour Pippin said: 'I hope  we  have not turned  too much towards the south, and are not walking longwise through this wood! It is not a very broad belt --I should  have said  no more than a mile at the widest - and we ought to have been through it by now.'      'It is no good our starting to go in zig-zags,' said Frodo. 'That won't mend  matters. Let us keep on as we  are going! I am not sure that I want to come out into the open yet.'      They  went on for perhaps another couple of miles. Then the sun gleamed out of ragged clouds  again and the rain  lessened. It was now past mid-day, and they felt it was high time for lunch. They halted under an elm tree: its leaves  though fast turning yellow were still thick, and the  ground at  its feel  was fairly dry and sheltered. When  they came to make their meal, they found that  the  Elves had  filled their bottles  with  a  clear drink, pale golden in colour: it had the scent of a honey made  of many flowers, and was wonderfully  refreshing. Very soon they  were  laughing, and snapping  their fingers at rain, and at Black Riders.  The last few  miles, they felt, would soon be behind them.
  164.      Frodo propped his back against the tree-trunk, and closed his eyes. Sam and Pippin sat near, and they began to hum, and then to sing softly:      Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go      To heal my heart and drown my woe.      Rain may fall and wind may blow,      And many miles be still to go,      But under a tall tree I will lie,      And let the clouds go sailing by.      Ho! Ho! Ho! they began again louder. They stopped short suddenly. Frodo sprang to his feet. A long-drawn wail came  down the wind, like  the  cry of some evil  and  lonely  creature.  It  rose and fell, and  ended  on  a high piercing  note. Even as  they sat and stood, as  if suddenly frozen,  it was answered by another  cry, fainter and further off, but no less  chilling  to the blood. There was then a silence, broken only by the sound of the wind in the leaves.      'And what do you think that was?' Pippin asked at last, trying to speak lightly, but quavering a little. 'If it was a bird, it was  one that I never heard in the Shire before.'      'It was not bird or beast,' said Frodo. 'It was a call, or  a signal -- there were words in that cry, though  I  could not catch them. But no hobbit has such a voice.'      No more was said about it. They were all thinking of the Riders, but no one  spoke of them. They  were now reluctant either to  stay  or go  on; but sooner or  later they had got to  get across the  open country to the Ferry, and  it was best to go  sooner  and  in daylight.  In a few moments they had shouldered their packs again and were off.      Before long the wood came  to a  sudden end. Wide grass-lands stretched before them. They now saw that  they had, in  fact, turned too much  to  the south.  Away over  the  flats  they could glimpse the low hill of Bucklebury across the River, but it was now to their left. Creeping cautiously out from the edge of the trees,  they set off  across  the  open  as  quickly as they could.      At first they felt afraid, away from the shelter of  the wood. Far back behind them stood the  high place  where  they had  breakfasted.  Frodo half expected to see the small distant  figure of  a horseman on  the ridge  dark against  the sky; but there was  no sign of  one. The  sun escaping from the breaking clouds, as it sank towards the hills they had left, was now shining
  165. brightly again. Their fear left them, though they still felt uneasy. But the land  became  steadily  more  tame and  well-ordered.  Soon they  came  into well-tended fields and meadows: there were  hedges  and gates  and dikes for drainage. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, just an  ordinary corner  of the Shire. Their spirits rose with every step. The  line  of  the River grew nearer; and the Black Riders began  to seem  like phantoms of  the woods now left far behind.      They passed along the edge of a huge turnip-field, and  came to a stout gate.  Beyond it a  rutted  lane ran between low well-laid hedges towards  a distant clump of trees. Pippin stopped.      'I know these fields and this gate!' he said. 'This is Bamfurlong,  old Farmer Maggot's land. That's his farm away there in the trees.'      'One trouble after another!' said Frodo, looking nearly as much alarmed as if Pippin  had declared the lane was the slot leading to  a dragon's den. The others looked at him in surprise.      'What's wrong with  old Maggot?' asked Pippin.  'He's a good  friend to all the  Brandy  bucks.  Of course he's  a terror to trespassers, and  keeps ferocious  dogs - but after all, folk down here are near the border and have to be more on their guard.'      'I  know,' said  Frodo. 'But all the same,' he added with  a shamefaced laugh,  'I am  terrified of  him and his dogs. I have avoided  his  farm for years and  years. He  caught me  several times trespassing after  mushrooms, when I was a youngster at Brandy Hall. On the last occasion he beat  me, and then took  me  and showed  me to his dogs. "See, lads," he  said, "next time this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat  him. Now see him off!" They chased me all the way to the Ferry. I have never got over the  fright - though I  daresay  the beasts knew their business and  would not really have touched me.'      Pippin laughed. 'Well, it's time you  made it up. Especially if you are coming back to live  in Buckland. Old Maggot is really  a stout fellow -  if you leave his mushrooms alone. Let's get into the lane and then we shan't be trespassing. If we meet him, I'll do the talking. He is a friend of Merry's, and I used to come here with him a good deal at one time.'      They went along the lane, until they saw the  thatched roofs of a large house and farm-buildings peeping out among the trees ahead. The Maggots, and the Puddifoots of  Stock, and most of  the  inhabitants of  the Marish, were
  166. house-dwellers; and this farm was stoutly built of brick and had a high wall all round it. There was a wide wooden gate opening out of the  wall into the lane.      Suddenly  as they drew nearer  a terrific baying and barking broke out, and a loud voice was heard shouting: 'Grip! Fang! Wolf! Come on, lads!'      Frodo and Sam stopped dead, but Pippin walked  on a few paces. The gate opened and  three  huge dogs came  pelting  out  into  the  lane, and dashed towards the travellers, barking fiercely. They took no notice of Pippin; but Sam shrank  against the wall, while  two wolvish-looking dogs sniffed at him suspiciously, and snarled if he moved. The largest and most ferocious of the three halted in front of Frodo, bristling and growling.      Through the gate there now appeared  a broad  thick-set  hobbit  with a round  red  face. 'Hallo! Hallo!  And who may you  be, and what  may you  be wanting?' he asked.      'Good afternoon, Mr. Maggot!' said Pippin.      The farmer looked at  him closely. 'Well, if it  isn't Master Pippin  - Mr. Peregrin Took, I should say!' he cried, changing from a scowl to a grin. 'It's a long time since I saw you round here. It's lucky for you that I know you. I was just going out to  set my dogs  on  any strangers. There are some funny things going  on today. Of course, we do get queer folk  wandering  in these parts at times. Too near the River,' he said, shaking his  head.  'But this fellow was the most outlandish I have ever set eyes  on. He won't cross my land without leave a second time, not if I can stop it.'      'What fellow do you mean?' asked Pippin.      'Then you haven't  seen him?' said  the  farmer. 'He  went up the  lane towards the  causeway not  a  long while back. He  was a funny  customer and asking funny questions. But perhaps you'll come along inside, and we'll pass the news more comfortable. I've a  drop  of good ale on tap, if you and your friends are willing, Mr. Took.'      It seemed plain that the  farmer would tell them more, if allowed to do it in his own time and  fashion, so they all accepted  the invitation. 'What about the dogs?' asked Frodo anxiously.      The farmer laughed.  'They  won't harm you - not unless I  tell 'em to. Here, Grip! Fang! Heel!' he cried. 'Heel, Wolf!'  To the relief of Frodo and Sam, the dogs walked away and let them go free.      Pippin introduced  the other two to the farmer. 'Mr. Frodo Baggins,' he said. 'You may not remember him, but he used to live at Brandy Hall.' At the
  167. name Baggins the farmer started, and gave Frodo a sharp glance. For a moment Frodo thought that the memory of stolen mushrooms had been aroused, and that the dogs would be  told  to see him  off. But Farmer Maggot took him by  the arm.      'Well, if that isn't queerer than ever?'  he exclaimed. 'Mr. Baggins is it? Come inside! We must have a talk.'      They went  into the farmer's  kitchen, and sat by  the wide fire-place. Mrs. Maggot brought out  beer in  a huge jug, and filled four large mugs. It was a good brew,  and Pippin found himself more than compensated for missing the  Golden  Perch.  Sam  sipped his  beer  suspiciously.  He had a  natural mistrust of the inhabitants of other parts of the Shire; and also he was not disposed to be quick  friends with anyone who had beaten his master, however long ago.      After  a few remarks about  the weather and the agricultural  prospects (which were no worse than usual), Farmer Maggot put down his  mug and looked at them all in turn.      'Now, Mr.  Peregrin,' he  said,  'where  might you  be coming from, and where might you be going  to?  Were you coming to visit' me? For, if so, you had gone past my gate without my seeing you.'      'Well, no,'  answered Pippin.  'To tell  you the truth, since  you have guessed  it, we got into the lane from the other end: we had come  over your fields. But that was quite by accident.  We  lost our way in the woods, back near Woodhall, trying to take a short cut to the Ferry.'      'If you were  in a hurry,  the road would have served you better,' said the farmer. 'But I wasn't worrying about  that. You have  leave to walk over my land, if you have a  mind, Mr.  Peregrin. And you, Mr. Baggins - though I daresay  you  still like mushrooms.'  He laughed.  'Ah yes, I recognized the name.  I recollect  the time when young Frodo  Baggins  was one of the worst young rascals of Buckland. But it  wasn't mushrooms I was thinking of. I had just heard the name Baggins before  you  turned up.  What do you think  that funny customer asked me?'      They  waited anxiously for  him to go on. 'Well,' the farmer continued, approaching his point with slow relish, 'he came riding on a big black horse in at  the  gate, which  happened  to be open, and right up to my door.  All
  168. black he was  himself, too, and cloaked and hooded up, as if he did not want to be known. "Now what  in the Shire  can  he want?" I thought to myself. We don't see many of the Big Folk over the border; and anyway I had never heard of any like this black fellow.      ' "Good-day to you!" I says,  going  out to him. "This  lane don't lead anywhere,  and wherever  you may be going, your quickest way will be back to the road." I didn't like the looks of  him; and when  Grip came out, he took one sniff and  let out a  yelp as if he had been slung: he put down his tail and bolted off howling. The black fellow sat quite still.      ' "I come  from yonder," he  said,  slow  and stiff-like, pointing back west, over my fields, if you please.  "Have you seen Baggins?" he asked in a queer voice,  and bent  down towards  me. I could not see any face,  for his hood fell down so low; and I felt a sort of shiver down  my back. But  I did not see why he should come riding over my land so bold.      ' "Be off!" I said. "There are no Bagginses  here.  You're in the wrong part of the Shire. You had better go back west to Hobbiton - but you can  go by road this time."      ' "Baggins has  left,"  he answered in a whisper. "He is coming. He  is not far away. I wish to find him. If he passes will you tell me? I will come back with gold."      ' "No you won't," I said.  "You'll  go back  where you  belong,  double quick. I give you one minute before I call all my dogs."      'He gave a sort of hiss. It might have been laughing, and it might not. Then he spurred  his great  horse right  at me, and I jumped  out of the way only just in time. I called the dogs, but he swung off, and rode through the gate  and up the lane  towards the causeway like a bolt  of thunder. What do you think of that?'      Frodo sat for a moment looking at  the fire,  but  his only thought was how on earth would they  reach the Ferry. 'I don't  know what  to think,' he said at last.      'Then I'll tell you what to think,' said Maggot. 'You should never have gone  mixing yourself up with Hobbiton folk, Mr. Frodo.  Folk  are queer  up there.'  Sam  stirred in  his  chair,  and  looked  at  the  farmer  with an unfriendly  eye. 'But you were always a  reckless lad. When  I heard you had left the Brandybucks  and  gone  off  to that old Mr. Bilbo, I said that you were going to find trouble. Mark my words, this  all comes of those  strange doings of Mr. Bilbo's. His money was got in some strange fashion  in foreign
  169. parts, they  say. Maybe there is some that want  to know what has  become of the gold and jewels that he buried in the hill of Hobbiton, as I hear?'      Frodo said  nothing:  the  shrewd  guesses of  the farmer  were  rather disconcerting.      'Well, Mr. Frodo,' Maggot went  on, 'I'm glad that you've had the sense to come back to Buckland. My  advice is: stay  there! And don't get mixed up with these outlandish folk.  You'll have  friends  in these parts. If any of these black  fellows come after you  again,  I'll  deal with  them. I'll say you're dead, or have left the Shire, or anything you like. And that might be true enough; for as like as not it is old Mr. Bilbo they want news of.'      'Maybe you're right,' said Frodo, avoiding the farmer's eye and staring at the fire.      Maggot looked at him thoughtfully. 'Well, I see  you have ideas of your own,' he said. 'It is as plain as my  nose that no  accident brought you and that rider here on the same afternoon; and maybe my  news was no  great news to you, after all.  I am not asking you to tell me anything you  have a mind to keep to yourself; but I see you are in some kind  of trouble. Perhaps you are thinking it won't be too easy to get to the Ferry without being caught?'      'I was thinking so,' said Frodo. 'But we have got to try and get there; and  it won't  be  done by sitting  and thinking. So I am afraid we must  be going.  Thank you very much indeed for your kindness! I've been in terror of you and your dogs for over thirty years, Farmer Maggot, though you may laugh to hear it. It's a pity: for I've missed a good friend. And now I'm sorry to leave so soon. But I'll come back, perhaps, one day - if I get a chance.'      'You'll be welcome when you come,' said Maggot. 'But now I've a notion. It's near  sundown  already,  and we are going to  have our  supper; for  we mostly go to bed  soon after the Sun. If you and Mr. Peregrin and  all could stay and have a bite with us, we would be pleased!'      'And so should we!' said  Frodo. 'But  we  must  be going at once,  I'm afraid. Even now it will be dark before we can reach the Ferry.'      'Ah! but wait a minute! I was going to say: after a bit of supper, I'll gel out a small waggon,  and I'll drive you all to the Ferry. That will save you a good step, and it might also save you trouble of another sort.'      Frodo  now accepted the invitation gratefully, to the relief  of Pippin and  Sam. The sun  was  already behind the  western hills, and the light was failing.  Two  of  Maggot's  sons  and his  three  daughters came in, and  a generous  supper was  laid  on the large table.  The kitchen  was  lit  with
  170. candles and the fire was mended. Mrs. Maggot  hustled in and out. One or two other  hobbits  belonging to the farm-household came in.  In  a short  while fourteen  sat  down to eat. There  was beer in plenty,  and a mighty dish of mushrooms  and bacon, besides much other solid farmhouse fare. The  dogs lay by the fire and gnawed rinds and cracked bones.      When they had finished, the farmer and his sons went out with a lantern and got the waggon ready. It was dark in the yard, when the guests came out. They  threw their  packs  on board  and  climbed in. The farmer sat  in  the driving-seat,  and whipped up his two stout  ponies. His  wife stood  in the light of the open door.      'You  be  careful  of yourself. Maggot!' she called. 'Don't  go arguing with any foreigners, and come straight back!'      'I will!' said he, and drove out  of the gate. There was  now no breath of wind stirring; the night was still and quiet, and a chill was in the air. They went without  lights and took it  slowly. After  a mile or two the lane came to an end, crossing a deep dike,  and climbing a short slope up  on  to the high-banked causeway.      Maggot got down and took a good look  either way, north and  south, but nothing could  be  seen  in the darkness, and  there was not a sound in  the still  air.  Thin  strands  of river-mist  were hanging above the dikes, and crawling over the fields.      'It's going  to be thick,' said Maggot; 'but  I'll not light my lantern till I turn for home. We'll hear anything on the road long before we meet it tonight.'      It was five miles or more from Maggot's lane to the Ferry. The  hobbits wrapped themselves  up, but their ears were strained for any sound above the creak  of  the wheels and the  slow clop of  the ponies' hoofs.  The  waggon seemed slower than a snail to Frodo. Beside him  Pippin was  nodding towards sleep; but Sam was staring forwards into the rising fog.      They reached the  entrance to the Ferry lane at last. It was marked  by two tall white posts  that suddenly loomed up  on their right. Farmer Maggot drew  in his  ponies  and the  waggon creaked  to a  halt.  They  were  just beginning  lo scramble out, when suddenly they heard what  they had all been dreading: hoofs on the road ahead. The sound was coming towards them.      Maggot  jumped  down  and stood holding the  ponies' heads, and peering forward into the gloom. Clip-clop, clip-clop came the approaching rider. The fall of the hoofs sounded loud in the still, foggy air.
  171.      'You'd better be hidden, Mr. Frodo,' said  Sam anxiously. 'You get down in the waggon and cover up with  blankets, and we'll send this  rider to the rightabouts!'  He climbed out  and went to the  farmer's side.  Black Riders would have to ride over him to get near the waggon.      Clop-clop, clop-clop. The rider was nearly on them.      'Hallo there!' called Farmer Maggot. The advancing hoofs stopped short. They thought they could dimly guess a dark cloaked shape in the mist, a yard or two ahead. 'Now then!'  said the  farmer, throwing the  reins to  Sam and striding forward. 'Don't you come a step nearer! What do you want, and where are you going?'      'I want Mr. Baggins. Have you seen him?' said a muffled voice - but the voice was  the voice of Merry Brandybuck.  A dark lantern was uncovered, and its light fell on the astonished face of the farmer.      'Mr. Merry!' he cried.      'Yes, of course! Who  did you think it was?' said Merry coming forward. As  he came out of the mist and their fears subsided, he seemed suddenly  to diminish to  ordinary  hobbit-size. He was  riding a pony, and a  scarf  was swathed round his neck and over his chin to keep out the fog.      Frodo  sprang  out of  the waggon to greet  him. 'So  there you are  at last!'  said Merry.  'I was beginning to wonder if you would  turn up at all today, and I was just going back to supper. When it grew foggy I came across and rode up  towards Stock to see if you had fallen in  any ditches. But I'm blest  if  I  know  which way  you  have come. Where did you  find them, Mr. Maggot? In your duck-pond?'      'No,  I  caught 'em trespassing,'  said the farmer, 'and nearly set  my dogs on  'em;  but they'll tell  you all the story,  I've no doubt.  Now, if you'll excuse  me, Mr. Merry and Mr. Frodo and  all, I'd best be turning for home. Mrs. Maggot will be worriting with the night getting thick.'      He backed the waggon into the lane and turned it. 'Well, good  night to you all,' he said. 'It's been a queer day, and no mistake. But all's well as ends well; though perhaps  we should not say  that  until  we reach  our own doors. I'll not deny that I'll be glad now when I  do.' He lit his lanterns, and got up.  Suddenly he produced a large basket from under the seat. 'I was nearly forgetting,' he said. 'Mrs. Maggot put this up  for Mr. Baggins, with her compliments.'  He handed  it down and moved off, followed by a chorus of thanks and good-nights.      They  watched  the  pale  rings  of  light  round his lanterns as  they
  172. dwindled  into  the  foggy night. Suddenly  Frodo laughed: from the  covered basket he held, the scent of mushrooms was rising.
  173.  
  174.  
  175.  
  176. Chapter 5. A Conspiracy Unmasked
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  178.  
  179.      '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
  180. 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
  181. 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.
  182. 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 are three 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!
  183.  
  184.      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.
  185.  
  186.      O! Water cold we may pour at need      down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;      but better is Beer, if drink we lack,
  187.      and Water Hot poured down the back.
  188.  
  189.      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  of  Whoa! 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 to me 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 was scared, 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?'
  190.      '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  not know 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.'      'I think,' answered Frodo slowly, 'that it was a good guess, as  far as it  goes. There is a connexion with Bilbo's  old adventures,  and the Riders are looking,  or perhaps one  ought to say  searching,  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
  191. 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.'
  192.      '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.
  193.      '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  said  go alone, he  said no! 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,
  194.      We must away ere break of day      Far over wood and mountain tall.
  195.  
  196.      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.
  197.  
  198.      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.
  199.  
  200.      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. 'They could 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
  201. 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
  202. 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.
  203.  
  204.  
  205. Chapter 6. The Old Forest
  206.  
  207.  
  208.      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
  209. 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  Forest is 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
  210. 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.
  211. 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 trees do  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.
  212.      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 go that 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.'
  213.      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
  214. 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.
  215.      '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!'
  216.      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
  217. 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 tree threw 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.'
  218.  
  219.  
  220.       '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 crying help! 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!
  221.      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
  222. 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.      Tom Bombadil burst out  laughing.  'Well,  my little fellows!' said he, stooping  so that he peered into their  faces. 'You shall come home with me! The  table is  all laden with  yellow cream, honeycomb, and white bread  and butter. Goldberry is  waiting. Time  enough  for questions around the supper table. You follow after me as quick as you are able!' With that he picked up his  lilies, and then with a beckoning  wave  of  his hand  went hopping and dancing along the path eastward, still singing loudly and nonsensically.      Too surprised and too relieved to talk, the hobbits followed  after him as fast as they could. But that was not fast enough. Tom soon disappeared in front  of them,  and the noise of his singing got fainter  and further away. Suddenly his voice came floating back to them in a loud halloo!      Hop along, my little friends, up the Withywindle!      Tom's going on ahead candles for to kindle.      Down west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping.      When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open,
  223.      Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow.      Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow!      Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you.      Hey now! merry dot! We'll be waiting for you!      After that the hobbits heard  no more. Almost at once the sun seemed to sink  into  the  trees  behind them. They thought of the slanting  light  of evening glittering on the  Brandywine River, and  the windows  of Bucklebury beginning  to gleam with hundreds of lights. Great shadows fell across them; trunks and branches of trees hung  dark and threatening over the path. White mists began to rise and curl on the surface of the river and stray about the roots  of the trees upon its borders. Out of the very ground at their feet a shadowy steam arose and mingled with the swiftly falling dusk.      It became difficult to follow the path, and they were very tired. Their legs seemed leaden. Strange furtive noises ran among the bushes and reeds on either  side of them; and if  they looked  up  to the pale sky,  they caught sight  of  queer  gnarled  and knobbly  faces that gloomed dark against  the twilight,  and leered down at them  from the high bank and the edges of  the wood. They  began to feel that  all this  country was unreal,  and that they were stumbling through an ominous dream that led to no awakening.      Just as they felt their feet slowing down to a standstill, they noticed that the  ground  was  gently  rising.  The  water  began to murmur. In  the darkness they caught the white glimmer of foam, where the  river flowed over a short fall. Then suddenly the trees came to an end and the mists were left behind. They  stepped out from the  Forest, and found a wide sweep  of grass welling up before them. The  river, now small and swift, was leaping merrily down to meet them, glinting here and there in the light of the stars,  which were already shining in the sky.      The grass under their feet was smooth and short, as if it had been mown or shaven. The eaves of the Forest behind were clipped, and trim as a hedge. The path was now plain before  them, well-tended and bordered with stone. It wound  up on to the top  of a grassy knoll,  now grey under  the pale starry night; and there,  still high  above them  on a further slope, they saw  the twinkling lights of a house. Down again the path went, and then up again, up a  long smooth  hillside of  turf, towards the light. Suddenly a wide yellow beam  flowed out  brightly  from a  door  that  was  opened.  There  was Tom Bombadil's  house  before them, up,  down,  under hill. Behind  it  a  steep shoulder of the land  lay grey and bare,  and beyond that the dark shapes of
  224. the Barrow-downs stalked away into the eastern night.      They  all hurried  forward,  hobbits  and  ponies. Already  half  their weariness  and all their fears  had fallen from them. Hey! Come  merry  dol! rolled out the song to greet them.      Hey! Come derry dol! Hop along, my hearties!      Hobbits! Ponies all! We are fond of parties.      Now let the fun begin! Let us sing together!      Then  another clear voice, as young and as ancient as Spring, like  the song of a glad water flowing  down  into  the night from a bright morning in the hills, came falling like silver to meet them:      Now let the song begin! Let us sing together      Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,      Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,      Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,      Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:      Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!      And  with that song the hobbits stood upon  the threshold, and a golden light was all about them.
  225.  
  226.  
  227.  
  228. Chapter 7. In the House of Tom Bombadil
  229.  
  230.  
  231.      The four hobbits stepped  over the  wide  stone  threshold,  and  stood still,  blinking. They  were in a  long  low room,  filled with the light of lamps swinging from the beams of the roof; and on the table of dark polished wood stood many candles, tall and yellow, burning brightly.      In a  chair, at the far side of the room  facing  the outer door, sat a woman. Her long yellow hair rippled down her shoulders; her  gown was green, green as young reeds, shot  with silver like beads  of dew; and her belt was of gold, shaped like a chain  of flag-lilies set with the pale-blue  eyes of forget-me-nots.  About  her  feel  in  wide   vessels  of  green  and  brown earthenware, white water-lilies  were  floating,  so that she  seemed  to be enthroned in the midst of a pool.      'Enter, good guests!'  she said, and as she spoke they knew that it was her  clear voice they had heard singing. They came a few timid steps further into  the room,  and  began  to bow  low,  feeling  strangely surprised  and awkward,  like folk that, knocking at a  cottage door to  beg for a drink of water, have been answered  by a fair young elf-queen clad in living flowers. But  before they could  say anything, she  sprang  lightly up  and  over the lily-bowls,  and ran  laughing towards them; and as she ran her gown rustled softly like the wind in the flowering borders of a river.      'Come dear  folk!' she said,  taking Frodo by the hand.  'Laugh  and be merry! I am Goldberry, daughter of  the River.' Then lightly she passed them and closing the door she turned her back to  it, with her  white arms spread out  across  it. 'Let us  shut out the night!'  she said. 'For you are still afraid, perhaps, of mist and tree-shadows and deep water, and untame things. Fear nothing! For tonight you are under the roof of Tom Bombadil.'      The hobbits looked at her in wonder; and she looked at each of them and smiled. 'Fair lady  Goldberry!' said Frodo at last,  feeling his heart moved with  a joy that he did not understand. He stood  as  he had at times  stood enchanted by fair elven-voices; but the spell that was now laid upon him was different:  less keen and lofty  was the  delight, but deeper and nearer  to mortal heart; marvellous and yet not strange. 'Fair lady Goldberry!' he said again. 'Now the joy that  was hidden in the songs we heard is  made plain to
  232. me.      O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water!      O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter!      O spring-time and summer-time, and spring again after!      O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves' laughter!'      Suddenly he  stopped  and  stammered,  overcome  with surprise  to hear himself saying such things. But Goldberry laughed.      'Welcome!'  she said.  'I had not heard that folk of the  Shire were so sweet-tongued. But I see you are an elf-friend; the light  in your eyes  and the ring in your voice tells it. This is  a merry meeting! Sit now, and wait for the Master  of the house! He will not be long. He is tending  your tired beasts.'      The hobbits sat down gladly in  low rush-seated chairs, while Goldberry busied herself about the table; and their eyes followed her, for the slender grace of her movement filled them with quiet delight. From somewhere  behind the house came the sound of singing. Every now and again they caught,  among many a derry dol and a merry dol and a ring a ding dillo the repeated words:      Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow;      Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.      'Fair  lady!'  said Frodo again after  a  while. 'Tell me, if my asking does not seem foolish, who is Tom Bombadil?'      'He is,' said Goldberry, staying her swift movements and smiling.      Frodo looked at her questioningly.  'He is, as you  have seen him,' she said in answer to his look. 'He is the Master of wood, water, and hill.'      'Then all this strange land belongs to him?'      'No indeed!' she answered, and her smile faded. 'That would indeed be a burden,'  she added  in  a low voice, as if to herself. 'The trees  and  the grasses  and  all things growing  or  living  in  the  land belong  each  to themselves.  Tom  Bombadil is the Master. No  one has ever  caught  old  Tom walking in the forest,  wading in the  water, leaping on the hill-tops under light and shadow. He has no fear. Tom Bombadil is master.'      A door opened and in came Tom Bombadil. He had now no hat and his thick brown  hair  was  crowned  with  autumn leaves.  He laughed,  and  going  to Goldberry, took her hand.      'Here's my pretty  lady!'  he said,  bowing  to the hobbits. 'Here's my Goldberry clothed all  in silver-green  with flowers in  her girdle! Is  the
  233. table  laden? I see yellow cream and honeycomb, and white bread, and butter; milk, cheese,  and green herbs and ripe berries gathered. Is that enough for us? Is the supper ready?'      'It is,' said Goldberry; 'but the guests perhaps are not?'      Tom clapped his hands and cried:  'Tom, Tom! your guests are tired, and you had near forgotten! Come now,  my  merry  friends, and Tom  will refresh you! You shall clean  grimy  hands, and wash your weary faces; cast off your muddy cloaks and comb out your tangles!'      He  opened the door, and they followed  him  down  a short passage  and round  a  sharp  turn. They  came  to  a low  room  with a  sloping  roof (a penthouse, it  seemed, built on  to  the north end  of the house). Its walls were  of clean stone, but they were  mostly covered  with green hanging mats and  yellow curtains. The  floor  was flagged, and  strewn with  fresh green rushes. There were four deep  mattresses, each  piled  with white  blankets, laid on the floor along one side. Against the opposite wall was a long bench laden with wide earthenware basins,  and beside it stood  brown ewers filled with water, some cold, some steaming hot. There were soft green slippers set ready beside each bed.      Before long, washed and  refreshed,  the  hobbits  were  seated  at the table, two on  each side, while at either end sat Goldberry  and the Master. It  was  a long and  merry  meal. Though  the hobbits ate, as only  famished hobbits can eat, there was no lack. The drink in their drinking-bowls seemed to be clear cold water, yet it went to  their hearts like  wine and set free their  voices.  The guests  became  suddenly aware  that  they were  singing merrily, as if it was easier and more natural than talking.      At  last Tom  and Goldberry rose and  cleared  the  table  swiftly. The guests were  commanded to  sit  quiet,  and were set in chairs,  each with a footstool to  his  tired  feet. There was a  fire  in the wide hearth before them,  and  it  was  burning with  a  sweet smell, as  if it were  built  of apple-wood. When  everything  was set in  order,  all the lights in the room were put  out, except one  lamp  and  a pair of candles at each  end of  the chimney-shelf. Then Goldberry came and  stood before them, holding a candle; and she wished them each a good night and deep sleep.      'Have peace now,' she said, 'until the morning! Heed no nightly noises! For nothing passes door and window here save moonlight and starlight and the wind  off the hill-top. Good  night!'  She passed  out  of  the room  with a glimmer and  a rustle. The sound  of her footsteps was like a stream falling
  234. gently away downhill over cool stones in the quiet of night.      Tom sat on a while beside  them in silence, while each of them tried to muster the courage to ask  one of the many questions he had meant to  ask at supper. Sleep gathered on their eyelids. At last Frodo spoke:      'Did  you  hear me calling, Master, or was  it just chance that brought you at that moment?'      Tom stirred like a man shaken out of a pleasant dream. 'Eh, what?' said he. 'Did I  hear you calling?  Nay, I did not hear: I was busy singing. Just chance brought  me then,  if  chance  you call it.  It was no  plan of mine, though I was waiting  for you.  We heard  news of you,  and learned that you were wandering. We guessed you'd come ere long down to the water:  all paths lead  that  way, down to  Withywindle. Old grey  Willow-man, he's  a  mighty singer; and it's hard for little folk to escape  his cunning mazes.  But Tom had an errand there, that he dared not hinder.' Tom  nodded as if sleep  was taking him again; but he went on in a soft singing voice:      I had an errand there: gathering water-lilies,      green leaves and lilies white to please my pretty lady,      the last ere the year's end to keep them from the winter,      to flower by her pretty feet tilt the snows are melted.      Each year at summer's end I go to find them for her,      in a wide pool, deep and clear, far down Withywindle;      there they open first in spring and there they linger latest.      By that pool long ago I found the River-daughter,      fair young Goldberry sitting in the rushes.      Sweet was her singing then, and her heart was beating!      He opened his eyes and looked at them with a sudden glint of blue:      And that proved well for you -- for now I shall no longer      go down deep again along the forest-water,      not while the year is old. Nor shall I be passing      Old Man Willow's house this side of spring-time,      not till the merry spring, when the River-daughter      dances down the withy-path to bathe in the water.      He  fell  silent  again;  but  Frodo  could  not help asking  one  more question: the one he most desired to have answered.  'Tell  us, Master,'  he said, 'about the Willow-man. What is he? I have never heard of him before.'      'No, don't!' said Merry and  Pippin together, sitting suddenly upright. 'Not now! Not until the morning!'
  235.      'That is right!' said the old man.  'Now  is the time for resting. Some things  are  ill  to hear  when  the  world's  in  shadow.  Sleep  till  the morning-light, rest on  the  pillow! Heed no nightly  noise!  Fear  no  grey willow!' And with that he took down the lamp and blew it out, and grasping a candle in either hand he led them out of the room.      Their mattresses and  pillows were soft as down, and  the blankets were of white  wool. They had hardly laid  themselves on the deep beds and  drawn the light covers over them before they were asleep.      In the dead night, Frodo lay  in a dream without light. Then he saw the young moon rising; under its thin light there loomed before him a black wall of  rock, pierced by a  dark arch like a great gate. It seemed to Frodo that he was lifted up, and passing over he saw that the rock-wall was a circle of hills, and that within it was a plain, and in the midst of the plain stood a pinnacle of stone, like a vast tower but not made by hands. On its top stood the figure of  a man. The moon as it rose seemed to hang for a  moment above his head and glistened in his white hair as the wind stirred it. Up from the dark plain below came the crying  of fell voices, and  the  howling of  many wolves. Suddenly  a shadow, like the shape of great wings, passed across the moon. The figure lifted his arms and a  light flashed from the staff that he wielded. A mighty eagle  swept down and bore him away. The voices wailed and the wolves yammered. There was a noise like a strong wind blowing, and on it was borne the sound of hoofs, galloping, galloping, galloping from the East. 'Black Riders!'  thought  Frodo as  he wakened, with the  sound of the hoofs still  echoing in his  mind.  He wondered if  he would ever  again  have the courage to leave the safety  of these stone walls. He lay  motionless, still listening;  but all  was now silent, and  at last he turned and fell  asleep again or wandered into some other unremembered dream.      At his side Pippin lay dreaming pleasantly;  but a change came over his dreams and he turned and groaned. Suddenly he woke, or thought he had waked, and yet still heard in the darkness the sound that had disturbed his  dream: tip-tap,  squeak:  the  noise  was  like  branches  fretting  in  the  wind, twig-fingers scraping  wall and window: creak, creak, creak. He wondered  if there were  willow-trees close  to  the  house; and  then suddenly he  had a dreadful feeling that he was not in an ordinary house at all, but inside the willow and listening  to that horrible dry  creaking  voice laughing  at him
  236. again. He sat up,  and felt the soft pillows yield to  his hands, and he lay down again relieved. He seemed to hear the echo of words in his  ears: 'Fear nothing! Have peace until the morning! Heed no nightly noises!' Then he went to sleep again.      It  was the  sound of  water  that Merry heard falling  into  his quiet sleep:   water  streaming  down   gently,  and  then   spreading,  spreading irresistibly all round  the  house  into a  dark shoreless pool. It  gurgled under the walls, and was  rising slowly but surely. 'I shall be drowned!' he thought. It will find its  way in,  and then I shall drown.' He felt that he was  lying  in a soft slimy bog,  and  springing up  he set  his fool on the corner of  a  cold hard  flagstone. Then he  remembered where he was and lay down again. He seemed to hear or remember hearing: 'Nothing passes doors  or windows save moonlight  and  starlight  and  the wind off  the  hill-top.' A little  breath of sweet air moved  the  curtain. He breathed deep  and  fell asleep again.      As far  as  he could  remember, Sam slept  through the  night  in  deep content, if logs are contented.      They woke  up, all four  at  once, in the morning light. Tom was moving about the room whistling like a starling. When he heard them stir he clapped his hands, and cried: 'Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My hearties!' He drew back the  yellow curtains, and  the hobbits  saw that these  had covered the windows, at either end of the room, one looking east  and the other  looking west.      They leapt up  refreshed. Frodo  ran  to the eastern window, and  found himself looking into a kitchen-garden grey with dew. He had half expected to see turf right up to the  walls, turf all pocked  with hoof-prints. Actually his view was screened  by a  tall line of beans on poles; but above and  far beyond them the grey top of the hill loomed up against the sunrise. It was a pale  morning: in the East,  behind long  clouds like lines  of  soiled wool stained red at the  edges, lay glimmering deeps of  yellow. The sky spoke of rain to come; but the light was broadening quickly,  and the red  flowers on the beans began to glow against the wet green leaves.      Pippin looked out of  the western window, down into a pool of mist. The Forest  was hidden  under a fog. It was  like looking down  on to  a sloping cloud-roof from above. There was a fold or channel where the mist was broken into many plumes and billows; the valley of  the Withywindle. The stream ran down  the hill on the left and vanished into the white shadows. Near at hand
  237. was a flower-garden and a clipped  hedge silver-netted, and beyond that grey shaven grass pale with dew-drops. There was no willow-tree to be seen.      'Good  morning,  merry  friends!' cried Tom, opening the eastern window wide. A cool air flowed in; it had a  rainy smell. 'Sun  won't show her face much today. I'm thinking. I have been walking wide, leaping on the hilltops, since the grey dawn began, nosing wind and weather, wet grass underfoot, wet sky above me.  I wakened Goldberry singing under  window;  but  nought wakes hobbit-folk in  the early morning. In the night little  folk wake up in  the darkness, and sleep after light has come! Ring  a  ding dillo! Wake now,  my merry friends! Forget the nightly noises! Ring  a ding dillo del! derry del, my  hearties!  If you  come  soon you'll find breakfast on the table. If you come late you'll get grass and rain-water!'      Needless  to  say - not that Tom's threat  sounded  very  serious - the hobbits came soon, and left the table late and only when it was beginning lo look rather empty. Neither Tom nor Goldberry  were there. Tom could be heard about  the house, clattering in the kitchen, and up and down the stairs, and singing  here  and  there  outside.  The  room  looked   westward  over  the mist-clouded valley, and the  window was open. Water dripped  down  from the thatched  eaves above. Before  they had  finished  breakfast the  clouds had joined into  an  unbroken roof,  and  a  straight grey rain came softly  and steadily down. Behind its deep curtain the Forest was completely veiled.      As they looked out of the window there came falling gently as if it was flowing down the rain out of the sky, the clear  voice  of Goldberry singing up above them. They could hear  few  words, but it seemed plain to them that the  song was a rain-song, as sweet as  showers on dry hills,  that told the tale  of a river from the  spring in the highlands to the Sea far below. The hobbits listened with delight; and Frodo was glad in his  heart, and blessed the kindly weather,  because it delayed them from departing. The  thought of going had been heavy upon him from  the moment  he awoke; but he guessed now that they would not go further that day.      The upper wind settled in the West and deeper and wetter clouds  rolled up  to spill their laden rain on the  bare heads of the Downs. Nothing could be seen all round the house but  falling  water.  Frodo  stood near the open door and watched the white chalky path turn into a little  river of milk and
  238. go bubbling away down into the  valley. Tom Bombadil came trotting round the corner of the house, waving his arms as if he was warding off the rain - and indeed when he sprang over the threshold he seemed quite dry, except for his boots. These he took off and put in the chimney-corner. Then  he  sat in the largest chair and called the hobbits to gather round him.      'This is Goldberry's  washing  day,' he said, 'and her autumn-cleaning. Too wet for hobbit-folk - let them rest while they are able! It's a good day for  long  tales, for  questions and for  answers,  so Tom  will  start  the talking.'      He  then  told  them many remarkable  stories,  sometimes  half  as  if speaking to  himself, sometimes looking at  them suddenly with a bright blue eye  under  his deep brows. Often his voice would turn to song, and he would get  out of  his chair  and  dance about.  He  told them tales of  bees  and flowers,  the ways of trees, and the strange creatures  of the Forest, about the  evil things  and good  things,  things  friendly and things unfriendly, cruel things and kind things, and secrets hidden under brambles.      As they  listened,  they began to  understand  the lives of the Forest, apart from themselves, indeed to  feel themselves as the strangers where all other things were at home. Moving constantly in and out  of his talk was Old Man  Willow, and Frodo learned now enough to content him, indeed  more  than enough, for it was not comfortable lore. Tom's words laid bare the hearts of trees and their thoughts, which were often dark and strange, and filled with a  hatred of things that go free upon the  earth, gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning: destroyers and usurpers. It was not called  the Old Forest without reason,  for  it  was indeed ancient,  a survivor  of vast forgotten woods;  and  in it there  lived  yet, ageing no quicker than the hills,  the fathers of the fathers of trees, remembering times when they were lords. The countless  years  had  filled  them with pride  and rooted wisdom,  and with malice.  But none were more dangerous  than the Great Willow:  his heart was rotten, but his strength was  green; and  he was cunning,  and  a master  of winds, and his song and thought ran through the woods  on both sides  of the river.  His grey  thirsty spirit drew power out of the earth and spread like fine root-threads in the ground, and invisible twig-fingers in the air, till it had under its dominion nearly all the trees of the Forest  from the Hedge to the Downs.
  239.      Suddenly  Tom's talk  left  the woods and  went leaping  up  the  young stream, over  bubbling  waterfalls,  over  pebbles and worn rocks, and among small flowers in close  grass and wet crannies, wandering at  last up  on to the Downs. They heard of the Great Barrows, and the  green  mounds,  and the stone-rings  upon the  hills and in the hollows among the hills.  Sheep were bleating in flocks. Green  walls and white walls rose. There were fortresses on the heights. Kings of little kingdoms fought together, and the young  Sun shone like fire  on the red metal of their  new and greedy swords. There was victory and defeat; and towers fell, fortresses were burned, and flames went up into the sky. Gold was piled on the  biers of dead kings and queens;  and mounds covered them, and the stone  doors were shut; and the grass grew over all. Sheep  walked  for a while biting the  grass,  but soon the hills  were empty again.  A  shadow came out of dark places far away, and the bones were stirred in  the  mounds.  Barrow-wights walked in  the hollow places  with a clink of  rings on  cold fingers, and gold chains in the wind.'  Stone rings grinned out of the ground like broken teeth in the moonlight.      The  hobbits   shuddered.   Even  in  the   Shire  the  rumour  of  the Barrow-wights of  the Barrow-downs beyond the Forest had  been heard. But it was not a tale that  any  hobbit  liked to listen  to, even by a comfortable fireside far away. These  four now  suddenly remembered what the joy of this house had  driven from their minds: the  house of Tom Bombadil nestled under the very shoulder of those dreaded hills. They  lost the thread of  his tale and shifted uneasily, looking aside at one another.      When they caught his  words again  they found that he had  now wandered into  strange regions beyond their  memory and  beyond their waking thought, into  limes when the world was wider, and  the  seas flowed straight to  the western  Shore;  and  still on  and back Tom went  singing out  into ancient starlight, when only the Elf-sires were awake. Then suddenly he slopped, and they saw that he nodded  as if he was falling asleep.  The hobbits sat still before  him, enchanted; and it  seemed as if, under the  spell of his words, the wind  had gone, and the clouds had  dried  up,  and  the  day  had  been withdrawn, and darkness  had  come from  East and West, and all  the sky was filled with the light of white stars.      Whether the morning and evening of  one  day or of many days had passed Frodo could not tell.  He did not feel either hungry  or tired,  only filled with  wonder.  The  stars shone through the window and the  silence  of  the heavens seemed  to be round  him. He spoke at  last out  of his wonder and a
  240. sudden fear of that silence:      'Who are you, Master?' he asked.      'Eh, what?' said  Tom sitting up,  and  his eyes glinting in the gloom. 'Don't you know my name yet? That's the only  answer. Tell me,  who are you, alone, yourself and nameless? But you are young and I am old. Eldest, that's what I am. Mark my words, my friends: Tom was here before  the river and the trees;  Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first  acorn. He made paths before  the Big  People,  and saw  the  little People arriving.  He was here before the Kings and the graves and the Barrow-wights. When the Elves passed westward, Tom was here already, before the  seas were bent. He knew the dark under  the stars when it  was  fearless -  before  the Dark  Lord came  from Outside.'      A shadow seemed to pass by the  window, and the hobbits glanced hastily through  the  panes.  When they  turned again, Goldberry stood  in the  door behind,  framed in  light. She held a  candle, shielding its flame  from the draught  with her hand;  and the  light  flowed through  it,  like  sunlight through a white shell.      'The  rain has ended,' she said; 'and new waters are running  downhill, under the stars. Let us now laugh and be glad!'      'And let us have  food and drink!' cried Tom. 'Long tales are  thirsty. And long listening's hungry work, morning, noon,  and evening!' With that he jumped  out  of  his  chair,  and  with  a  bound took  a  candle  from  the chimney-shelf and lit it  in the flame that Goldberry held;  then he  danced about the table. Suddenly he hopped through the door and disappeared.      Quickly  he returned, bearing a  large and laden  tray.  Then  Tom  and Goldberry  set the table; and  the  hobbits sat  half in  wonder and half in laughter: so  fair  was  the grace  of Goldberry  and so  merry and odd  the caperings of Tom. Yet in some fashion they  seemed to  weave a single dance, neither hindering the other, in  and out of  the  room, and  round about the table; and with great speed food and vessels and  lights were set  in order. The boards blazed with candles, white and yellow.  Tom bowed to his  guests. 'Supper is ready,'  said Goldberry; and now the  hobbits  saw that  she  was clothed all in silver with  a white girdle, and her  shoes were like fishes' mail. But Tom was all in clean blue, blue as rain-washed forget-me-nots, and he had green stockings.      It was a supper even better than before. The hobbits under the spell of
  241. Tom's words may have  missed one meal or many,  but when the food was before them it seemed at  least a week  since they had eaten. They did not  sing or even speak much for a while, and paid close attention to business. But after a time their hearts and spirit rose high again, and their voices rang out in mirth and laughter.      After they had eaten,  Goldberry  sang many songs for them, songs  that began  merrily  in the  hills and fell softly down into  silence; and in the silences they saw in their minds pools and  waters wider  than any  they had known, and looking into them they  saw the sky below them and the stars like jewels in the  depths. Then  once more she wished them  each  good night and left them by the fireside. But Tom now seemed wide awake and plied them with questions.      He appeared already to know much about them and all their families, and indeed  to know much of  all the history  and doings of  the Shire down from days hardly remembered among the hobbits  themselves. It no longer surprised them; but he  made no secret that he owed  his  recent knowledge  largely to Farmer Maggot, whom he seemed to regard as a person of more  importance than they had imagined.  'There's earth under  his  old  feet, and  clay  on  his fingers; wisdom in his bones, and both  his eyes are open,' said Tom. It was also clear that Tom  had dealings with the Elves, and it seemed that in some fashion, news had reached him from Gildor concerning the flight of Frodo.      Indeed  so much did Tom know, and so cunning  was his questioning, that Frodo found himself telling him more about Bilbo and his own hopes and fears than he  had told before even to  Gandalf. Tom wagged  his head up and down, and there was a glint in his eyes when he heard of the Riders.      'Show me  the  precious  Ring!'  he said suddenly  in the  midst of the story: and  Frodo, to his  own astonishment,  drew  out the chain  from  his pocket, and unfastening the Ring handed it at once to Tom.      It  seemed  to  grow  larger  as  it  lay  for  a  moment  on  his  big brown-skinned hand. Then suddenly he put it  to his eye  and laughed.  For a second the  hobbits had a vision, both comical and  alarming, of his  bright blue  eye gleaming through a circle of gold. Then Tom put the Ring round the end of his little finger and held it up to the candlelight. For a moment the hobbits noticed nothing strange about this.  Then they gasped. There was  no
  242. sign of Tom disappearing!      Tom  laughed again,  and then he  spun  the Ring in  the  air  - and it vanished with a flash. Frodo  gave a cry - and Tom leaned forward and handed it back to him with a smile.      Frodo looked at it closely, and rather  suspiciously (like one  who has lent a trinket to a juggler). It was the same Ring, or looked  the same  and weighed  the same:  for that  Ring had  always  seemed  to  Frodo  to  weigh strangely heavy in the hand. But something prompted him to make sure. He was perhaps a trifle annoyed with Tom for seeming to make so  light of what even Gandalf thought so perilously important. He waited  for an opportunity, when the talk was going again, and Tom  was telling an absurd story about badgers and their queer ways - then he slipped the Ring on.      Merry turned towards him to say something and gave a start, and checked an exclamation.  Frodo was delighted (in a  way):  it was  his own ring  all right, for Merry was staring blankly  at his  chair, and obviously could not see him. He  got up and  crept  quietly away from  the  fireside towards the outer door.      'Hey there!' cried Tom, glancing towards him with a most seeing look in his shining eyes. 'Hey!  Come  Frodo, there!  Where be you  a-going? Old Tom Bombadil's not as blind  as that yet. Take off your golden ring! Your hand's more fair without it. Come back! Leave your game and  sit down beside me! We must  talk a while more, and  think about the  morning.  Tom  must teach the right road, and keep your feet from wandering.'      Frodo laughed (trying to feel pleased), and taking off the Ring he came and  sat down  again. Tom now told them that he reckoned the Sun would shine tomorrow, and it would be a glad morning, and setting  out would be hopeful. But they  would do well to start early; for weather in  that  country was  a thing  that  even Tom could  not be sure  of  for long, and it would  change sometimes quicker than he could change his jacket. 'I am no weather-master,' he said; 'nor is aught that goes on two legs.'      By his  advice  they  decided to make nearly  due North from his house, over the western and lower slopes of the Downs: they might hope  in that way to strike  the East Road in a day's journey, and avoid the  Barrows. He told them not to be afraid - but to mind their own business.      'Keep to  the green grass. Don't you go  a-meddling  with old stone  or
  243. cold Wights or prying in their houses, unless you be strong folk with hearts that never falter!' He said this more than once; and he advised them to pass barrows  by on the west-side, if  they  chanced to stray near  one.  Then he taught them a rhyme to sing, if they should by ill-luck fall into any danger or difficulty the next day.      Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!      By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,      By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!      Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!      When they had sung this  altogether after him, he  clapped them each on the shoulder with  a  laugh,  and taking  candles  led them  back  to  their bedroom.
  244.  
  245.  
  246.  
  247. Chapter 8. Fog on the Barrow-Downs
  248.  
  249.  
  250.      That night  they heard no noises.  But either in his  dreams or  out of them,  he could not tell which,  Frodo heard a sweet singing running  in his mind;  a  song  that  seemed  to  come  like  a  pale  light behind  a  grey rain-curtain, and growing stronger to turn the veil all to glass and silver, until at last it was rolled back, and a  far green country opened before him under a swift sunrise.      The vision  melted  into  waking; and  there  was  Tom whistling like a tree-full of birds;  and the  sun was already  slanting  down the  hill  and through the open window. Outside everything was green and pale gold.      After breakfast, which they  again  ate  alone,  they made ready to say farewell, as nearly heavy of heart as was possible on such  a morning: cool, bright, and clean under a washed autumn sky of thin blue. The air came fresh from the  North-west. Their quiet  ponies were almost  frisky,  sniffing and moving  restlessly. Tom came out  of the house and  waved his hat and danced upon the doorstep, bidding the hobbits to get up and be off and go with good speed.      They rode off along a path  that  wound away from behind the house, and went slanting  up towards the north  end  of  the hill-brow  under which  it sheltered. They had just dismounted to lead their  ponies up the last  steep slope, when suddenly Frodo stopped.      'Goldberry!' he cried. 'My fair lady, clad all in silver green! We have never said  farewell  to her, nor seen  her  since the evening!' He  was  so distressed that he turned  back;  but at  that  moment  a  clear  call  came rippling down. There on the  hill-brow she stood beckoning to them: her hair was flying loose,  and as it caught the sun it shone and  shimmered. A light like the glint  of  water on dewy grass  flashed from under her  feet as she danced.      They hastened up the  last slope, and stood breathless beside her. They bowed, but with a wave of her arm she bade them look round; and they  looked out from the hill-top  over lands under the morning. It was now as clear and far-seen as it  had been veiled and misty  when they stood upon the knoll in the  Forest,  which could now be seen rising pale and green out of  the dark trees in the West. In that direction the land rose in  wooded ridges, green,
  251. yellow,  russet under  the sun, beyond which lay hidden the  valley  of  the Brandywine. To the South, over  the  line of  the Withywindle,  there was  a distant glint like pale glass where  the Brandywine River  made a great loop in the  lowlands  and  flowed  away  out of  the  knowledge of the  hobbits. Northward  beyond  the dwindling  downs  the land  ran  away  in  flats  and swellings of grey  and green and pale earth-colours, until it  faded  into a featureless and  shadowy  distance.  Eastward  the Barrow-downs  rose, ridge behind ridge into the morning, and vanished out of eyesight into a guess: it was no more  than a guess of  blue and a remote  white glimmer blending with the hem of the sky,  but it spoke to them, out of  memory  and old tales, of the high and distant mountains.      They  took a deep draught  of  the air, and felt that a skip and  a few stout strides would  bear  them wherever they wished. It seemed fainthearted to go jogging aside over the crumpled skirts of the downs  towards the Road, when they  should be leaping,  as lusty as Tom, over the stepping  stones of the hills straight towards the Mountains.      Goldberry spoke  to them  and recalled their eyes and thoughts.  'Speed now, fair guests!'  she said. 'And hold to your purpose! North with the wind in  the left eye and a blessing on your footsteps! Make haste while the  Sun shines!'  And  to Frodo  she  said:  'Farewell,  Elf-friend, it was a  merry meeting!'      But Frodo found no words to answer. He bowed low, and mounted his pony, and followed by his friends jogged slowly down the gentle slope  behind  the hill. Tom Bombadil's house and the valley, and the Forest were lost to view. The  air  grew warmer between the green walls of hillside  and hillside, and the scent of turf rose strong and sweet as they breathed. Turning back, when they reached  the bottom  of the green hollow, they saw Goldberry, now small and slender like  a sunlit flower  against the  sky: she  was standing still watching them, and her hands were stretched out towards them. As they looked she gave a  clear  call,  and lifting  up  her hand she turned  and vanished behind the hill.      Their way wound along the floor of the hollow, and round the green feet of a steep hill into  another deeper and  broader  valley, and then over the shoulder of further hills, and down their long  limbs, and  up  their smooth sides again, up on to  new hill-tops and down into new valleys. There was no tree  nor any visible water: it  was a country  of  grass  and short springy turf, silent  except for the whisper of the air over the edges  of the land,
  252. and high lonely cries of  strange birds.  As they journeyed the sun mounted, and grew hot. Each time they climbed a ridge the breeze seemed to have grown less. When they caught a glimpse of the country westward the distant  Forest seemed to be  smoking, as if the fallen rain was steaming up again from leaf and root and mould.  A shadow now lay round the edge of  sight, a dark  haze above which the upper sky was like a blue cap, hot and heavy.      About mid-day  they  came to  a hill whose top  was wide and flattened, like a shallow  saucer with a  green mounded rim. Inside  there was  no  air stirring,  and the sky seemed near their heads. They rode  across and looked northwards. Then  their hearts rose,  for it seemed plain that they had come further already than they had expected. Certainly the distances  had now all become hazy and deceptive, but there could  be no doubt that  the Downs were coming to  an end. A  long valley  lay below  them winding  away northwards, until it  came  to  an opening  between two  steep shoulders. Beyond,  there seemed  to be  no more hills. Due north  they faintly glimpsed  a  long dark line. That is a line  of trees,' said Merry, 'and that must mark  the  Road. All  along it for many leagues  east of the Bridge there are  trees growing. Some say they were planted in the old days.'      'Splendid!'  said Frodo. 'If we make as good going this afternoon as we have done this morning, we shall have left the Downs before the Sun sets and be jogging on in search of a camping place.'  But even as he spoke he turned his glance eastwards, and he saw that on that side the hills were higher and looked down  upon them; and all those hills were crowned with green  mounds, and on some were standing  stones, pointing upwards like jagged teeth out of green gums.      That view was somehow disquieting; so they  turned  from  the sight and went down into  the hollow circle. In  the  midst of it there stood a single stone, standing  tall  under  the  sun above,  and at this hour  casting  no shadow. It was shapeless and yet significant: like a landmark, or a guarding finger, or more like  a  warning. But they were now hungry, and the sun  was still at the fearless noon; so they set their backs against the east side of the stone. It was cool,  as if the sun had  had no power to warm  it; but at that time this seemed pleasant. There they took food and drink,  and made as good a noon-meal under the open sky as anyone could wish; for  the food came from 'down under Hill'. Tom had provided them with plenty for the comfort of the day. Their ponies unburdened strayed upon the grass.      Riding over  the hills,  and eating  their fill, the warm  sun and  the
  253. scent  of  turf,  lying a little  too long, stretching  out  their legs  and looking at the sky above their noses: these things are,  perhaps,  enough to explain  what  happened.  However,  that  may  be:  they  woke  suddenly and uncomfortably from a sleep they had never meant  to take. The standing stone was cold, and it cast a long pale shadow that stretched eastward  over them. The sun, a pale and watery yellow, was gleaming  through the mist just above the  west wall  of the  hollow  in which  they lay; north, south, and  east, beyond the wall the fog was thick, cold and white. The air was silent, heavy and  chill. Their ponies  were standing  crowded together  with their  heads down.      The hobbits sprang to their feet in alarm,  and ran to the western rim. They found that they were upon an island in the fog. Even as they looked out in  dismay  towards the setting sun, it sank before their  eyes into a white sea, and a cold grey shadow sprang up in the East behind. The fog  rolled up to the walls and rose above them, and as it mounted it bent over their heads until  it  became a roof: they were shut  in a  hall of  mist  whose central pillar was the standing stone.      They felt as if a trap was closing about them; but  they did  not quite lose heart. They still remembered  the hopeful view they had had of the line of the Road ahead,  and they still knew in  which direction it  lay. In  any case, they now had so great a dislike for that hollow place  about the stone that no  thought  of remaining there  was in their minds.  They packed up as quickly as their chilled fingers would work.      Soon  they were leading their ponies  in single file  over the  rim and down the long northward slope of  the hill,  down into a foggy sea. As  they went down the mist  became colder  and damper, and their hair hung lank  and dripping  on  their foreheads. When they reached the bottom it  was so  cold that  they halted  and got out cloaks and  hoods, which soon became  bedewed with  grey drops. Then, mounting  their ponies,  they went  slowly on again, feeling their way by the rise and fall of the ground. They were steering, as well as they could guess, for the gate-like opening at the far northward end of  the  long valley which  they  had  seen in the  morning.  Once they were through the  gap, they had only lo keep on in  anything like a straight line and they were bound in the end to strike the Road. Their thoughts did not go beyond that, except for a vague hope  that  perhaps  away  beyond the  Downs there might be no fog.      Their going  was  very slow.  To  prevent their  getting separated  and
  254. wandering in different directions they went in file, with Frodo leading. Sam was behind him, and after him came Pippin, and then Merry. The valley seemed to stretch on endlessly. Suddenly Frodo saw a hopeful sign.  On  either side ahead a darkness began  to loom  through  the mist; and he guessed that they were  at  last  approaching  the gap in  the hills,  the north-gate  of  the Barrow-downs. If they could pass that, they would be free.      'Come on! Follow me!' he called back over  his shoulder, and he hurried forward.  But  his  hope soon  changed  to bewilderment and alarm. The  dark patches  grew darker, but they shrank; and suddenly he saw, towering ominous before him and leaning  slightly towards one another like the pillars  of  a headless door, two huge  standing  stones. He could not remember having seen any sign  of  these in the  valley, when  he looked out from the hill in the morning. He had passed  between them almost before he was aware: and even as he did so  darkness seemed to  fall round him. His pony  reared and snorted, and he  fell off. When he looked back he found that he was alone: the others had not followed him. 'Sam!' he  called.  'Pippin!  Merry! Come  along!  Why don't you keep up?'      There was no answer. Fear  took him,  and he ran back  past the  stones shouting  wildly: 'Sam!  Sam! Merry! Pippin!' The pony bolted into  the mist and vanished. From some way off, or so it seemed, he thought he heard a cry: 'Hoy!  Frodo! Hoy!' It was away eastward, on his left as he stood  under the great  stones, staring and straining into the gloom. He plunged off  in  the direction of the call, and found himself going steeply uphill.      As he struggled  on he called again,  and kept on calling more and more frantically; but he heard no answer for some time, and then it  seemed faint and far ahead  and high above him. 'Frodo! Hoy!' came the thin voices out of the  mist:  and then  a cry that sounded  like  help, help!  often repeated, ending  with a  last help!  that trailed off into a  long wail  suddenly cut short.  He stumbled forward  with all the speed he could towards  the cries; but the light was now gone, and clinging night had closed about him, so that it was impossible to be sure of any direction. He seemed all the time  to be climbing up and up.      Only the change in the level of the ground at his feet told him when he at last came to the top of a ridge or hill. He was  weary, sweating  and yet chilled. It was wholly dark.
  255.      'Where are you?' he cried out miserably.      There was no reply. He stood listening. He was suddenly aware  that  it was getting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icy wind. A change was coming in the weather. The mist was flowing  past him now in shreds and  tatters. His breath was smoking, and  the darkness  was  less near and  thick. He looked up  and saw with  surprise  that faint stars were appearing  overhead amid the  strands of hurrying cloud  and  fog.  The wind began to hiss over the grass.      He imagined suddenly that he  caught a muffled cry, and he made towards it; and even as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside, and the  starry sky  was  unveiled.  A glance showed him  that he was now facing southwards and was on a round hill-top, which he must  have climbed from the north.  Out  of the east  the  biting wind was blowing. To his  right  there loomed against the westward stars a dark  black  shape. A great barrow stood there.      'Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid.      'Here!'  said a voice, deep and cold,  that seemed  to come out of  the ground. 'I am waiting for you!'      'No!' said Frodo; but  he did not run away. His knees gave, and he fell on the ground. Nothing happened, and there was no sound. Trembling he looked up,  in time to see a tall dark  figure like a shadow against the stars.  It leaned over him. He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with a pale light  that seemed to come from  some  remote  distance.  Then  a  grip stronger and colder than iron seized him. The icy touch froze his bones, and he remembered no more.      When  he came to  himself again, for a  moment he could  recall nothing except a sense  of  dread. Then  suddenly  he  knew  that he was imprisoned, caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow. A  Barrow-wight had taken him, and he was probably already under the  dreadful  spells of  the Barrow-wights about which whispered tales spoke. He dared not move, but lay as he found himself: flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast.      But though his fear was so great that it seemed to be part  of the very darkness that was round him, he found himself as he lay thinking about Bilbo Baggins and his stories, of their jogging along together in the lanes of the Shire and  talking about roads and adventures.  There  is  a seed of courage
  256. hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, wailing for some final  and desperate danger to  make it grow. Frodo was neither  very  fat nor very  timid; indeed,  though he did not  know it, Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought hardened him.  He found himself stiffening,  as if for a final spring; he no longer felt limp like a helpless prey.      As he lay there, thinking and getting a hold of himself, he noticed all at once  that the darkness was slowly giving way:  a pale greenish light was growing round him. It did not  at first show him what kind of a place he was in, for the light  seemed to be  coming out of himself,  and from  the floor beside  him, and had not yet reached the roof or wall. He  turned, and there in  the  cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry. They were on their backs, and their faces looked deathly pale;  and they were  clad in white. About them lay many treasures, of  gold maybe,  though in that  light they  looked cold and unlovely.  On their heads  were circlets, gold  chains were about their waists, and on their fingers were many rings. Swords lay by their sides, and shields were  at their feet. But across their  three  necks lay one long naked sword.      Suddenly a  song began: a cold  murmur, rising and  falling.  The voice seemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin, sometimes like a low moan from the ground. Out of the formless stream of sad but horrible sounds, strings  of words would now and again shape themselves: grim,  hard,  cold  words,  heartless and miserable. The night  was  railing against the morning of  which it was bereaved,  and the cold was cursing the warmth for which it hungered. Frodo was chilled to the marrow. After a while the song became clearer, and  with  dread in  his heart he perceived that it had changed into an incantation:      Cold be hand and heart and bone,      and cold be sleep under stone:      never mare to wake on stony bed,      never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.      In the black wind the stars shall die,      and still on gold here let them lie,      till the dark lord lifts his hand      over dead sea and withered land.      He heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound. Raising himself
  257. on one arm he looked, and saw now in the pale light that they were in a kind of  passage which  behind them turned a corner. Round the corner a long  arm was groping, walking on its fingers towards Sam, who was lying nearest,  and towards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him.      At first Frodo felt as if he  had indeed been turned into stone by  the incantation.  Then a wild thought  of escape came to him. He wondered if  he put on the Ring, whether the Barrow-wight  would miss him, and he might find some way out.  He thought  of himself running free  over the grass, grieving for Merry, and Sam,  and Pippin,  but free and alive  himself. Gandalf would admit that there had been nothing else he could do.      But the courage that had been  awakened in  him was now  too strong: he could not  leave his friends so easily.  He wavered, groping  in his pocket, and then fought with himself again; and as he did so  the arm  crept nearer. Suddenly  resolve  hardened  in him,  and  he seized a  short sword that lay beside him, and kneeling he stooped  low over the bodies of  his companions. With what strength he had he hewed  at the crawling  arm near the wrist, and the hand broke off; but at the  same moment the sword  splintered up to  the hilt.  There  was a shriek and the light vanished. In  the  dark there was a snarling noise.      Frodo fell  forward over Merry, and Merry's face felt cold. All at once back  into  his mind, from which it had disappeared with the first coming of the  fog,  came the  memory  of the house down  under the Hill,  and  of Tom singing. He remembered  the rhyme  that  Tom  had taught  them. In  a  small desperate voice  he began: Ho!  Tom  Bombadil!  and with that name his voice seemed to grow  strong: it had a full and lively sound, and the dark chamber echoed as if to drum and trumpet.      Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!      By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,      By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!      Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!      There  was a sudden deep  silence, in which Frodo could hear his  heart beating. After a long slow moment he heard plain, but far away, as if it was coming down through the  ground or through thick walls,  an  answering voice singing:      Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,      Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.      None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:
  258.      His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster.      There was a loud rumbling sound, as of stones rolling and  falling, and suddenly  light  streamed  in,  real  light, the plain light of  day.  A low door-like opening appeared  at the end of the  chamber beyond  Frodo's feet; and there was Tom's head (hat, feather, and all) framed against the light of the sun  rising red  behind him. The light fell upon the floor, and upon the faces of the three  hobbits lying beside Frodo. They  did not stir,  but the sickly hue had left them. They  looked now as  if they were only very deeply asleep.      Tom stooped, removed his hat, and came into the dark chamber, singing:      Get out, you old Wight! Vanish in the sunlight!      Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,      Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains!      Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!      Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,      Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended.      At these words there was a cry and part of the inner end of the chamber fell in  with a crash.  Then  there was  a long trailing shriek, fading away into an unguessable distance; and after that silence.      'Come, friend Frodo!' said Tom. 'Let us get out on to clean  grass! You must help me bear them.'      Together  they  carried  out Merry, Pippin, and Sam.  As Frodo left the barrow  for the last  time he thought he saw a severed hand wriggling still, like  a wounded  spider, in a heap of fallen  earth. Tom went back in again, and there was a sound of much thumping and stamping. When he came out he was bearing in  his  arms a great  load of  treasure:  things  of  gold, silver, copper, and bronze; many beads and chains and jewelled ornaments. He climbed the green barrow and laid them all on top in the sunshine.      There he stood, with his hat in his hand  and the wind in his hair, and looked down upon the  three hobbits, that had been  laid on their backs upon the grass at the west side of the mound. Raising his right hand he said in a clear and commanding voice:      Wake now my merry tads! Wake and hear me calling!      Warm now be heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen;      Dark door is standing wide; dead hand is broken.
  259.      Night under Night is flown, and the Gate is open!      To Frodo's great joy the hobbits  stirred, stretched their arms, rubbed their eyes, and  then suddenly  sprang up. They  looked  about in amazement, first  at Frodo, and then at Tom standing  large  as life on  the barrow-top above  them; and then  at  themselves in their thin  white rags, crowned and belted with pale gold, and jingling with trinkets.      'What in  the name of  wonder?' began Merry, feeling the golden circlet that had slipped over  one  eye. Then he stopped, and a shadow came over his face, and he closed his eyes. 'Of course, I remember!' he  said. 'The men of Carn  Dym came on  us at  night,  and  we were worsted. Ah! the spear  in my heart!'  He  clutched at his  breast. 'No! No!'  he said,  opening his eyes. 'What am I saying? I have been dreaming. Where did you get to, Frodo?'      'I thought that I  was lost,' said Frodo; 'but I don't want to speak of it. Let us think of what we are to do now! Let us go on!'      'Dressed up like this, sir?' said Sam. 'Where are my clothes?' He flung his circlet, belt, and  rings on the grass, and looked round helplessly,  as if  he  expected  to  find  his  cloak,  jacket,  and  breeches,  and  other hobbit-garments lying somewhere to hand.      'You won't find  your clothes again,' said  Tom, bounding down from the mound, and laughing as he danced round them in the  sunlight. One would have thought  that  nothing dangerous  or dreadful  had happened;  and indeed the horror faded  out of their  hearts as they looked at him, and saw the  merry glint in his eyes.      'What do you mean?' asked Pippin, looking at him, half puzzled and half amused. 'Why not?'      But Tom shook his  head, saying: 'You've found yourselves again, out of the deep water. Clothes are but little loss, if you escape from drowning. Be glad,  my merry friends, and let the warm sunlight heal now  heart and limb! Cast off these cold rags! Run naked on the grass, while Tom goes a-hunting!'      He sprang away down hill, whistling and calling. Looking down after him Frodo saw him  running away southwards along the green  hollow between their hill and the next, still whistling and crying:      Hey! now! Come hoy now! Whither do you wander?      Up, down, near or far, here, there or yonder?      Sharp-ears, Wise-nose, Swish-tail and Bumpkin,      White-socks my little lad, and old Fatty Lumpkin!
  260.      So he sang, running fast, tossing up his hat  and catching it, until he was hidden  by a fold of the ground: but for some time his hey now! hoy now! came floating back down the wind, which had shifted round towards the south.      The air was growing very warm again. The hobbits ran  about for a while on the grass,  as he  told them. Then they lay basking  in the  sun with the delight of  those  that have been wafted  suddenly  from bitter winter to  a friendly clime, or of people that, after  being long ill and bedridden, wake one day to find that they are unexpectedly well and the day is again full of promise.      By the time that Tom returned they were feeling strong (and hungry). He reappeared, hat first, over  the brow of the hill, and behind him came in an obedient line six  ponies: their own five and one more. The last was plainly old Fatty Lumpkin: he was larger, stronger,  fatter  (and older)  than their own ponies. Merry, to whom the others belonged, had not, in fact, given them any such names, but they answered  to the  new names that Tom had given them for the rest of  their  lives. Tom called  them one by  one and they climbed over the brow and stood in a line. Then Tom bowed to the hobbits.      'Here are your ponies, now!' he  said.  'They've  more  sense (in  some ways) than you  wandering hobbits have - more sense in their noses. For they sniff  danger ahead which  you walk  right  into; and if  they  run to  save themselves, then they run  the  right  way.  You must forgive  them all; for though their hearts are faithful, to  face fear of Barrow-wights is not what they were made for. See, here they come again, bringing all their burdens!'      Merry, Sam,  and Pippin now clothed themselves  in spare  garments from their  packs; and they soon felt too hot, for  they  were  obliged to put on some  of  the thicker  and warmer things  that they had  brought against the oncoming of winter.      'Where  does  that other old  animal, that  Fatty  Lumpkin, come from?' asked Frodo.      'He's mine,' said  Tom. 'My four-legged  friend;  though I seldom  ride him,  and he wanders  often far, free upon the  hillsides. When  your ponies stayed with  me, they  got  to know  my Lumpkin;  and they  smelt him in the night,  and quickly  ran to meet him. I thought he'd  look for them and with his words of wisdom take all their fear away. But now, my jolly Lumpkin, old Tom's going to ride. Hey! he's coming with you, just to set you on the road; so  he needs a pony. For you  cannot easily talk to hobbits that are riding,
  261. when you're on your own legs trying to trot beside them.'      The hobbits were delighted  to  hear this, and thanked  Tom many times; but he laughed, and said that they were so good at losing themselves that he would  not  feel happy till he had seen them  safe over  the borders of  his land. 'I've got  things to  do,' he  said:  'my  making and  my  singing, my talking and my walking, and my watching of the country.  Tom can't be always near  to  open doors  and willow-cracks.  Tom  has  his house  to mind,  and Goldberry is waiting.'      It was still fairly early  by the sun, something between  nine and ten, and the hobbits turned their minds  to food. Their last meal  had been lunch beside  the  standing  stone the  day  before. They  breakfasted now off the remainder of  Tom's provisions,  meant for their supper, with additions that Tom had brought with him. It was  not a large meal (considering hobbits  and the circumstances), but they felt much better for it. While they were eating Tom went up to the mound, and looked through the treasures. Most of these he made into a pile that glistened and  sparkled on the grass. He bade them lie there 'free to  all finders,  birds, beasts. Elves  or Men,  and  all kindly creatures'; for so the spell of the mound should be broken and scattered and no Wight  ever  come back to it. He chose for himself from the pile a brooch set  with  blue  stones,  many-shaded like flax-flowers or the wings of blue butterflies. He looked long at it, as if stirred by some memory, shaking his head, and saying at last:      'Here is a pretty toy for  Tom and for his  lady! Fair was she who long ago  wore this on her shoulder. Goldberry shall wear it now, and we will not forget her!'      For each of the hobbits he chose a dagger, long, leaf-shaped, and keen, of marvellous workmanship, damasked with serpent-forms in red and gold. They gleamed as he drew them  from their black sheaths,  wrought of  some strange metal,  light and  strong, and set with  many fiery stones.  Whether by some virtue in these sheaths or  because of the spell  that lay on the mound, the blades seemed untouched by time, unrusted, sharp, glittering in the sun.      'Old  knives are long  enough  as  swords for  hobbit-people,' he said. 'Sharp  blades are good to have, if Shire-folk go walking, east,  south,  or far away into dark  and danger.'  Then he told  them that these  blades were forged many long years ago by Men of Westernesse: they were foes of the Dark
  262. Lord,  but  they were overcome  by the evil king of Carn Dym in  the Land of Angmar.      'Few now remember them,' Tom murmured,  'yet  still some  go wandering, sons of forgotten  kings walking in loneliness,  guarding  from  evil things folk that are heedless.'      The hobbits  did not understand his  words, but as  he spoke they had a vision  as it  were of a  great expanse of  years  behind them,  like a vast shadowy  plain over  which there strode  shapes  of Men, tall and grim  with bright swords,  and last came  one with a star on his  brow. Then the vision faded,  and they were back  in the sunlit world. It was time to start again. They made ready,  packing  their  bags  and lading  their  ponies. Their new weapons they hung on their  leather belts under  their jackets, feeling them very awkward, and  wondering  if they would be of  any use. Fighting had not before occurred to any of  them  as one  of the  adventures  in which  their flight would land them.      At last  they  set off. They led their ponies down the hill;  and  then mounting they trotted quickly along the valley. They looked back and saw the top of the old mound on the hill, and  from it the sunlight on the gold went up like a yellow flame. Then they turned  a shoulder of the Downs and it was hidden from view.      Though Frodo looked about him on every side he saw no sign of the great stones standing like  a gate, and before long they came to the  northern gap and rode swiftly through, and the land fell away before them. It was a merry journey with  Tom Bombadil trotting gaily  beside them, or  before  them, on Fatty Lumpkin, who could move much faster than his girth promised. Tom  sang most of the time, but  it  was chiefly  nonsense, or else  perhaps a strange language unknown to the hobbits, an ancient language whose words were mainly those of wonder and delight.      They went forward steadily, but they soon saw that the Road was further away  than  they  had  imagined. Even without a fog,  their sleep at mid-day would have prevented them from reaching it  until after nightfall on the day before.  The dark line they had seen was  not  a line of trees but a line of bushes growing on the edge  of a deep dike with  a steep wall on the further side.  Tom said that it had once been  the boundary of a kingdom, but a very long lime ago. He seemed to remember  something sad about it, and would  not
  263. say much.      They climbed down  and out  of the dike and through a gap  in the wall, and then  Tom turned due north, for they  had been  bearing  somewhat to the west. The land was now open and fairly level, and they quickened their pace, but  the  sun was already sinking low when at  last  they saw a line of tall trees  ahead,  and they knew that they had come back  to the Road after many unexpected adventures.  They galloped their ponies  over  the last furlongs, and halted under the long shadows of the trees. They  were on  the  top of a sloping bank,  and  the Road,  now dim as evening drew on, wound away  below them. At this point  it ran nearly  from South-west  to North-east,  and  on their right it  fell quickly down into a wide hollow. It was rutted and bore many signs of the recent heavy rain; there were pools and pot-holes  full of water. They rode down the  bank and looked up and down. There was nothing to be  seen. 'Well,  here we  are again at  last!'  said  Frodo. 'I suppose  we haven't  lost more than two days  by  my short  cut through the Forest!  But perhaps the delay will prove useful - it may have put them off our trail.'      The others looked at  him.  The shadow of the fear of the  Black Riders came suddenly over them  again. Ever since they had entered  the Forest they had thought chiefly of getting back  to  the  Road;  only  now  when it  lay beneath their feet  did they remember the danger which pursued them, and was more than likely  to be  lying in wait for  them upon the Road  itself. They looked anxiously back towards the setting sun,  but  the Road was  brown and empty.      'Do you  think,'  asked Pippin hesitatingly,  'do you  think we may  be pursued, tonight?'      'No, I hope not  tonight,' answered Tom Bombadil; 'nor perhaps the next day. But do not trust my guess; for I  cannot tell  for certain. Out east my knowledge fails. Tom is not master of  Riders from the Black Land far beyond his country.'      All the same the hobbits wished he was coming with them. They felt that he would know how to deal with Black Riders,  if anyone did. They would soon now  be going forward  into lands wholly strange to them, and beyond all but the  most  vague and  distant  legends  of the Shire, and in  the  gathering twilight they longed for home. A  deep  loneliness and sense  of loss was on
  264. them.  They stood  silent,  reluctant to make  the final  parting, and  only slowly  became aware that Tom was wishing them farewell, and telling them to have good heart and to ride on till dark without halting.      'Tom will give you good advice, till this day is over  (after that your own  luck must go with you and  guide you): four miles along the Road you'll come  upon a village,  Bree under Bree-hill, with  doors  looking  westward. There you'll  find an  old inn that  is  called The  Prancing Pony. Barliman Butterbur is the worthy keeper. There you can stay the night, and afterwards the morning  will speed you upon your way.  Be  bold, but wary! Keep up your merry hearts, and ride to meet your fortune!'      They begged him to come at least as far as the inn and  drink once more with them; but he laughed and refused, saying:      Tom's country ends here: he will not pass the borders.      Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting!      Then  he turned, tossed up his hat, leaped on Lumpkin's  back, and rode up over the bank and away singing into the dusk.      The hobbits climbed up and watched him until he was out of sight.      'I  am sorry  to  take  leave of  Master  Bombadil,' said Sam.  'He's a caution and  no mistake.  I  reckon  we may go  a  good deal further and see naught  better,  nor queerer. But  I  won't deny I'll be  glad to  see  this Prancing  Pony he spoke of. I hope  it'll be like The Green Dragon away back home! What sort of folk are they in Bree?'      'There  are  hobbits in Bree,'  said Merry,  'as well as  Big  Folk.  I daresay it will be homelike  enough. The Pony is a good inn by all accounts. My people ride out there now and again.'      'It may be all we could wish,' said Frodo; 'but it is outside the Shire all the same. Don't  make yourselves  too much at home! Please remember -all of you - that the name of Baggins must NOT be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill, if any name must be given.'      They now mounted  their ponies and rode off  silently into the evening. Darkness came down quickly,  as they  plodded slowly  downhill and up again, until at last they saw lights twinkling some distance ahead.      Before  them rose Bree-hill barring the way,  a dark mass against misty stars; and under  its western flank nestled a large village. Towards it they now  hurried desiring only to find a fire,  and a door  between them and the night.
  265.  
  266.  
  267.  
  268. Chapter 9. At the Sign of
  269.  
  270.  
  271.      The Prancing Pony      Bree was the chief village of  the Bree-land, a small inhabited region, like an island in the empty  lands round about. Besides  Bree  itself, there was Staddle on the  other side of the hill, Combe  in a deep valley a little further eastward,  and  Archet  on  the  edge of  the Chetwood.  Lying round Bree-hill and the  villages was a small country of fields and tamed woodland only a few miles broad.      The Men of Bree were brown-haired, broad,  and  rather  short, cheerful and independent: they belonged to  nobody but themselves; but they were more friendly and familiar with Hobbits, Dwarves, Elves, and other inhabitants of the world  about them than was (or  is)  usual with Big People. According to their own tales  they were the original inhabitants and were the descendants of the first Men that ever wandered  into the West of the  middle-world. Few had survived the turmoils of  the Elder  Days; but  when the  Kings returned again over the  Great Sea  they had found the Bree-men still there, and they were still there now, when the memory  of  the  old Kings had faded into the grass.      In those days no other Men had settled dwellings so far west, or within a hundred leagues of the Shire. But in the wild lands beyond Bree there were mysterious wanderers. The Bree-folk called them Rangers, and knew nothing of their origin. They  were  taller and darker  than the  Men of Bree  and were believed  to have strange powers of sight and hearing, and to understand the languages of beasts and birds. They roamed at will southwards, and eastwards even as far as  the Misty  Mountains; but they were now few and rarely seen. When  they appeared they brought news from afar, and told strange  forgotten tales which were eagerly listened to; but the Bree-folk did not make friends of them.      There were  also many families  of hobbits  in the  Bree-land  and they claimed to be  the oldest  settlement of Hobbits in the world, one that  was founded long before even the Brandywine was crossed and the Shire colonized. They  lived  mostly  in  Staddle though  there were  some  in  Bree  itself, especially on the  higher slopes of the hill, above the  houses of  the Men.
  272. The  Big  Folk and  the  Little Folk  (as they  called one another) were  on friendly  terms,  minding their  own affairs in  their own  ways,  but  both rightly regarding  themselves as  necessary parts of the Bree-folk.  Nowhere else in the world was this peculiar (but excellent) arrangement to be found.      The Bree-folk, Big and Little, did  not themselves travel much; and the affairs  of the  four villages  were their  chief concern. Occasionally  the Hobbits  of Bree went as far as  Buckland, or the  Eastfarthing; but  though their  link land  was not  much  further  than a  day's  riding  east of the Brandywine Bridge,  the  Hobbits  of the Shire  now seldom  visited  it.  An occasional Bucklander or  adventurous Took would come  out to  the Inn for a night  or  two, but  even  that  was  becoming  less  and  less  usual.  The Shire-hobbits referred to those of Bree, and to any others that lived beyond the  borders,   as  Outsiders,  and  took  very  little  interest  in  them, considering them dull  and uncouth. There were probably  many more Outsiders scattered about in the West  of the World in those days than  the  people of the Shire imagined. Some, doubtless, were no  better than  tramps, ready  to dig a hole in any bank and  stay only as long as it suited them.  But in the Bree-land, at any rate, the hobbits were decent and  prosperous, and no more rustic than most of their distant relatives Inside. It was not yet forgotten that there had been a time when there was much coming and going  between the Shire and Bree. There was Bree-blood in the Brandybucks by all accounts.      The village of Bree had some  hundred  stone houses  of  the Big  Folk, mostly above the Road, nestling  on the hillside with  windows looking west. On that side, running in  more  than half a circle from the hill and back to it, there was a deep dike with a thick hedge on the  inner side.  Over  this the Road crossed by a causeway; but where it pierced the hedge it was barred by a great gate. There was another gate in the southern comer where the Road ran out of the village. The  gates were closed at nightfall; but just inside them were small lodges for the gatekeepers.      Down on  the Road, where it swept to the right to  go round the foot of the hill, there was a large inn. It had been built long ago when the traffic on the roads had been far greater. For Bree stood at an old meeting of ways; another ancient road  crossed  the  East  Road  just outside (he dike at the western end of the village, and in former days Men and other folk of various sorts had travelled much on it. Strange as News from Bree was still a saying
  273. in the  Eastfarthing, descending from  those days,  when  news  from  North, South, and East could be heard in the inn,  and when  the Shire-hobbits used to go more often to hear it.  But the Northern Lands had long been desolate, and  the  North  Road  was now  seldom  used: it was  grass-grown,  and  the Bree-folk called it the Greenway.      The Inn  of Bree  was still  there, however, and  the  innkeeper was an important person. His house was a meeting place for the idle, talkative, and inquisitive  among the inhabitants, large and  small, of the four  villages; and a resort of Rangers and other wanderers, and for such travellers (mostly dwarves) as still journeyed on the East Road, to and from the Mountains.      It  was  dark,  and  white  stars  were  shining,  when  Frodo and  his companions came at last to the Greenway-crossing and drew near the  village. They came to the West-gate and found it shut, but  at the door  of the lodge beyond it, there was a man sitting. He jumped up and  fetched a lantern  and looked over the gate at them in surprise.      'What do you want, and where do you come from?' he asked gruffly.      'We are making for  the inn here,' answered Frodo.  'We are  journeying east and cannot go further tonight.'      'Hobbits! Four  hobbits! And what's more,  out  of  the Shire  by their talk,' said the gatekeeper, softly as if  speaking to himself. He  stared at them darkly for a moment, and then slowly  opened the gate and let them ride through.      'We don't  often see Shire-folk riding on the Road  at  night,' he went on, as they halted  a moment by his door. 'You'll pardon  my wondering  what business takes you away east of Bree! What may your names be, might I ask?'      'Our names and our business are our own,  and this does not seem a good place to  discuss them,' said Frodo, not liking the look of  the man or  the tone of his voice.      'Your  business is  your  own, no doubt,'  said  the man; 'but it's  my business to ask questions after nightfall.'      'We  are hobbits  from Buckland, and we have a  fancy to travel and  to stay at the  inn here,' put  in Merry. 'I am  Mr. Brandybuck. Is that enough for  you?  The Bree-folk used  to be fair-spoken to travellers,  or so I had heard.'      'All right, all right!' said the man.  'I  meant no offence. But you'll find  maybe that more  folk  than old Harry  at the  gate will be asking you questions. There's queer folk about. If you go  on to  The Pony, you'll find
  274. you're oat the only guests.'      He wished  them  good night, and they said no more; but Frodo could see in  the lantern-light  that the  man was still eyeing them curiously. He was glad to  hear  the gate clang  to  behind  them,  as they rode  forward.  He wondered why the man was  so suspicious, and whether any one had been asking for news of a party of hobbits. Could  it have been Gandalf? He  might  have arrived, while they  were delayed in the Forest and the Downs. But there was something in the look and the voice of the gatekeeper that made him uneasy.      The man stared after the hobbits for a moment, and then he went back to his house. As soon as his  back was turned, a dark figure climbed quickly in over the gate and melted into the shadows of the village street.      The  hobbits rode on up a  gentle slope, passing a few detached houses, and  drew up outside the  inn. The houses looked large  and strange to them. Sam stared up at the inn  with its three  storeys and many windows, and felt his  heart sink. He  had imagined  himself meeting giants taller than trees, and other creatures  even more terrifying, some time or other  in the course of his journey; but at the moment he was finding his first sight of  Men and their tall houses quite enough, indeed too much for the dark end of a tiring day. He  pictured  black horses standing all  saddled in  the shadows of the inn-yard, and Black Riders peering out of dark upper windows.      'We  surely aren't going  to stay here for the night,  are we, sir?' he exclaimed. 'If there are hobbit-folk  in these  pans, why  don't we look for some that would be willing to take us in? It would be more homelike.'      'What's wrong with the inn?' said Frodo. 'Tom Bombadil  recommended it. I expect it's homelike enough inside.'      Even from the outside the inn looked a pleasant house to familiar eyes. It had a front on  the Road, and two wings running  back on land partly  cut out  of the lower  slopes of the hill, so  that at the rear the second-floor windows were level  with the  ground.  There  was a wide  arch  leading to a courtyard between the two wings, and on the left under the arch there was  a large doorway reached by  a few  broad  steps. The  door  was open and light streamed out of it. Above the arch  there was a lamp, and beneath it swung a large signboard: a  fat white pony reared up on its hind legs. Over the door was painted in white letters: THE PRANCING PONY by BARLIMAN  BUTTERBUR. Many of the lower windows showed lights behind thick curtains.
  275.      As they hesitated outside in the gloom, someone began singing  a  merry song  inside, and many  cheerful voices  joined loudly in the  chorus.  They listened  to  this encouraging sound for a moment and  then  got  off  their ponies. The song ended and there was a burst of laughter and clapping.      They led their ponies under the arch, and leaving  them standing in the yard they climbed up  the steps. Frodo went forward and nearly bumped into a short fat man with a bald head and a red  face. He had a white apron on, and was  bustling out of  one door and in through another, carrying a tray laden with full mugs.      'Can we--' began Frodo.      'Half a minute, if  you please!' shouted the man over his shoulder, and vanished into a babel of voices and a cloud of smoke. In a moment he was out again, wiping his hands on his apron.      'Good  evening, little master!' he said, bending down. 'What may you be wanting?'      'Beds for four, and stabling for five ponies,  if that can be  managed. Are you Mr. Butterbur?'      'That's right! Barliman is my name. Barliman Butterbur at your service! You're from the Shire,  eh?' he said, and  then suddenly he clapped his hand to  his forehead, as  if  trying to remember something. 'Hobbits!' he cried. 'Now what does that remind me of? Might I ask your names, sir?'      'Mr. Took and Mr. Brandybuck,' said  Frodo; 'and this is Sam Gamgee. My name is Underhill.'      'There  now!' said  Mr.  Butterbur,  snapping  his fingers. 'It's  gone again! But it'll come back, when I have time to  think. I'm run off my feet; but I'll see what I can  do for you. We don't often get a party out  of  the Shire nowadays, and I should be sorry not to make you welcome. But  there is such  a crowd already in the house  tonight  as there  hasn't been for  long enough. It never rains but it pours, we say in Bree.      'Hi! Nob!' he shouted. 'Where  are  you, you woolly-footed  slow-coach? Nob!'      'Coming,  sir! Coming!' A cheery-looking hobbit bobbed out  of  a door, and  seeing the  travellers, stopped short and stared  at  them  with  great interest.      'Where's  Bob?'  asked the landlord.  'You don't  know? Well find  him! Double sharp! I haven't got six legs, nor six eyes neither! Tell Bob there's five ponies that have to be stabled. He must find room somehow.' Nob trotted
  276. off with a grin and a wink.      'Well, now, what was  I going to  say?' said Mr. Butterbur, tapping his forehead. 'One thing drives out another, so to speak. I'm that busy tonight, my head is going round. There's  a party that came up the Greenway from down South last night - and that was strange enough to begin with. Then there's a travelling  company  of dwarves  going  West come  in  this evening. And now there's you.  If you weren't  hobbits, I  doubt  if  we could house you. But we've  got  a room or two  in the  north wing  that  were made  special  for hobbits, when this  place was built.  On  the  ground  floor as they usually prefer; round windows and all as they like it. I hope you'll be comfortable. You'll be wanting supper, I don't doubt. As soon as may be. This way now!'      He led them a short  way  down a passage, and opened a door. 'Here is a nice little parlour!' he said. 'I hope it will suit. Excuse me now. I'm that busy. No time for talking. I must be trotting. It's hard  work for two legs, but I  don't get thinner. I'll look  in again  later.  If you want anything, ring the hand-bell, and Nob will come. If he don't come, ring and shout!'      Off he went at last, and left them feeling rather breathless. He seemed capable of  an endless stream of talk, however busy he might be. They  found themselves in a small and cosy room. There  was a bit of bright fire burning on  the hearth,  and in front of it  were some low  and comfortable  chairs. There  was a round table, already spread with a white cloth, and on it was a large hand-bell. But  Nob, the  hobbit servant, came bustling in long before they thought of ringing. He brought candles and a tray full of plates.      'Will you be wanting anything  to drink, masters?' he asked. 'And shall I show you the bedrooms, while your supper is got ready?'      They were  washed and in the middle of good deep mugs  of beer when Mr. Butterbur and  Nob  came in again. In a twinkling the table was laid.  There was hot soup, cold meats, a  blackberry  tart,  new loaves, slabs of butter, and half  a ripe  cheese: good plain food, as good  as the Shire could show, and homelike enough to  dispel  the last of  Sam's misgivings (already  much relieved by the excellence of the beer).      The landlord hovered round for a link, and then prepared to leave them. 'I don't  know whether  you would care  to  join the company, when  you have supped,' he said, standing at the door. 'Perhaps you would rather go to your beds. Still the company would be very pleased to welcome you, if  you  had a mind.  We don't get  Outsiders -  travellers from the  Shire, I should  say,
  277. begging your pardon - often; and we like to hear a bit of news, or any story or song you may have in mind.  But as you please! Ring the bell, if you lack anything!'      So refreshed and encouraged did  they feel at the end  of  their supper (about three quarters of an hour's steady going, not hindered by unnecessary talk) that Frodo, Pippin, and Sam decided to join the company. Merry said it would be too stuffy. 'I shall sit  here quietly by the fire  for  a bit, and perhaps go out later for a sniff of the air. Mind your Ps and Qs, and  don't forget that you are supposed to be  escaping in secret, and are still on the high-road and not very far from the Shire!'      'All right!' said Pippin. 'Mind yourself!  Don't  get  lost,  and don't forget that it is safer indoors!'      The company  was in the big common-room  of the inn.  The gathering was large  and mixed, as Frodo discovered, when his eyes got used  to the light. This came chiefly from a blazing  log-fire, for the three lamps hanging from the  beams were  dim,  and half  veiled  in smoke.  Barliman  Butterbur  was standing  near the  fire, talking  to  a couple  of dwarves and one  or  two strange-looking  men.  On the benches were  various  folk:  men  of  Bree, a collection of local  hobbits  (sitting  chattering  together),  a  few  more dwarves,  and other vague figures difficult to make out away  in the shadows and comers.      As soon as the Shire-hobbits  entered, there  was  a  chorus of welcome from the Bree-landers. The strangers, especially those that  had come up the Greenway, stared at them curiously. The landlord introduced the newcomers to the Bree-folk, so  quickly  that, though they caught  many  names, they were seldom  sure who the names belonged to.  The Men of Bree seemed  all to have rather  botanical (and to the Shire-folk rather odd) names,  like Rushlight, Goatleaf,  Heathertoes,  Appledore, Thistlewool and  Ferny (not  to  mention Butterbur).  Some  of  the hobbits  had  similar  names.  The  Mugworts, for instance,  seemed numerous.  But  most of them  had natural  names,  such as Banks, Brockhouse, Longholes,  Sandheaver, and Tunnelly,  many of which were used  in the Shire.  There were several Underhills  from Saddle, and as they could not imagine sharing  a name without being  related, they took Frodo to their hearts as a long-lost cousin.      The Bree-hobbits were,  in fact, friendly  and  inquisitive,  and Frodo soon found that  some  explanation  of  what he was doing would  have  to be
  278. given. He gave out that he was interested in history and geography (at which there was much wagging of heads, although neither  of these words  were much used in the  Bree-dialect). He said  he  was thinking of writing a  book (at which there was silent astonishment), and that he and his friends  wanted to collect information about  hobbits living  outside the Shire,  especially in the eastern lands.      At this  a  chorus of voices broke  out. If Frodo had  really wanted to write a  book,  and  had  had  many ears, he  would  have learned enough for several chapters  in a few minutes. And if that was not enough, he was given a whole list of names, beginning with 'Old Barliman here', to whom he  could go for further information. But after a time, as Frodo did not show any sign of writing a book on the spot, the hobbits returned to their questions about doings in  the Shire. Frodo did not  prove  very communicative,  and he soon found himself sitting alone in a comer, listening and looking around.      The Men and  Dwarves were mostly talking of  distant events and telling flews of a kind that was becoming only too familiar. There  was trouble away in the South, and it seemed that the  Men who had  come up the Greenway were on  the  move,  looking for  lands  where they  could  find some  peace. The Bree-folk were  sympathetic, but plainly  not  very  ready to  take  a large number  of  strangers  into  their little land. One  of  the  travellers,  a squint-eyed ill-favoured fellow, was foretelling  that more  and more people would  be  coming north in  the near future. 'If  room isn't found for them, they'll  find it for  themselves.  They've a  right  to live,  same as other folk,'  he said  loudly. The  local inhabitants did not look  pleased at the prospect.      The hobbits  did not pay much attention to all this,  and it did not at the moment seem to concern hobbits. Big  Folk could hardly  beg for lodgings in hobbit-holes. They were more  interested in Sam and Pippin,  who were now feeling quite  at home, and were chatting  gaily about events in the  Shire. Pippin roused a good deal of laughter with an account of the collapse of the roof of the Town  Hole in Michel Delving: Will Whitfoot, the Mayor,  and the fattest hobbit  in the Westfarthing, had  been buried in chalk, and came out like a floured  dumpling. But there were several questions asked  that  made Frodo a little uneasy. One of  the Bree-landers, who seemed to  have been in the Shire  several times, wanted to know where the  Underhills lived and who they were related to.
  279.      Suddenly  Frodo  noticed  that  a  strange-looking  weather-beaten man, sitting in  the  shadows near the  wall, was  also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had  a  tall tankard  in  front of him, and  was  smoking  a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs  were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy darkgreen cloth was  drawn  close  about him, and in spite of the heat of the room  he wore a hood  that overshadowed his  face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits.      'Who is that?' Frodo asked, when he  got  a chance  to  whisper  to Mr. Butterbur. 'I don't think you introduced him?'      'Him?' said  the  landlord in  an  answering whisper,  cocking  an  eye without  turning his head. 'I don't rightly know. He is one of the wandering folk -Rangers we call them. He seldom talks: not but what he can tell a rare tale when he has the mind. He disappears for a month, or a year, and then he pops  up again. He was in and out  pretty  often last spring; but I  haven't seen  him about lately. What his  right name is I've  never  heard: but he's known round here as Strider. Goes  about at a great pace on his long shanks; though  he  don't  tell nobody what cause  he has to hurry.  But there's  no accounting for East and West, as we say in Bree, meaning the Rangers and the Shire-folk, begging your pardon. Funny you  should  ask about  him.' But  at that moment Mr. Butterbur was called away  by a demand for more ale  and his last remark remained unexplained.      Frodo found that Strider was now looking at him, as if he  had heard or guessed  all that had been said.  Presently,  with a wave of his hand and  a nod, he invited Frodo to come over  and sit  by  him. As  Frodo drew near be threw back his  hood, showing  a shaggy head of dark hair  necked with grey, and in a pale stem face a pair of keen grey eyes.      'I  am called Strider,'  he said  in a low voice. 'I am very pleased to meet you. Master - Underhill, if old Butterbur got your name right.'      'He  did,' said  Frodo stiffly. He felt far from comfortable under  the stare of those keen eyes.      'Well, Master Underhill,' said Strider,  'if I were  you, I should stop your  young friends  from talking too much. Drink, fire,  and chance-meeting are pleasant enough, but, well - this  isn't the Shire. There are queer folk about. Though I  say it as shouldn't, you may  think,'  he  added with a wry
  280. smile, seeing Frodo's glance. 'And  there have been even stranger travellers through Bree lately,' he went on, watching Frodo's face.      Frodo returned his  gaze but said nothing; and Strider made no  further sign.  His  attention  seemed  suddenly to be fixed on Pippin.  To his alarm Frodo became aware that the ridiculous young Took, encouraged by his success with  the fat  Mayor of  Michel  Delving, was  now actually  giving a  comic account of Bilbo's farewell party. He was already giving an imitation of the Speech, and was drawing near to the astonishing Disappearance.      Frodo was annoyed. It was a harmless enough tale for most  of the local hobbits, no doubt: just a  funny story about  those funny people away beyond the River;  but some (old Butterbur, for instance)  knew a thing or two, and had probably heard rumours long ago about  Bilbo's vanishing. It would bring the name of Baggins to their minds,  especially  if there had been inquiries in Bree after that name.      Frodo  fidgeted,  wondering  what to  do.  Pippin  was  evidently  much enjoying  the attention he was getting,  and had  become  quite forgetful of their danger. Frodo had a sudden fear that in his present mood he might even mention the Ring; and that might well be disastrous.      'You had better do something quick!' whispered Strider in his ear.      Frodo jumped up and stood on a table, and began to  talk. The attention of Pippin's audience was disturbed. Some of the  hobbits looked at Frodo and laughed and clapped, thinking that  Mr. Underhill  had taken as  much ale as was good for him.      Frodo  suddenly felt very foolish,  and found himself (as was his habit when making a speech) fingering  the things in his pocket. He felt the  Ring on its chain, and quite unaccountably the desire came over him to slip it on and vanish out of the silly  situation. It seemed to him,  somehow, as if me suggestion came to him from outside,  from someone or  something a the room. He resisted the  temptation firmly, and clasped  the Ring in his hand, as if to keep a hold on it and prevent it from escaping or doing any mischief.  At any rate it  gave him no inspiration. He spoke  'a  few suitable  words', as they  would have said  in the  Shire: We  are all very much gratified by the kindness of your reception, and  I  venture to hope that my brief visit will help to  renew  the old ties of  friendship between the Shire and Bree;  and then he hesitated and coughed.      Everyone in the room was now  looking at him. 'A song!' shouted one  of the hobbits. 'A song! A song!' shouted all the others. 'Come on now, master,
  281. sing us something that we haven't heard before!'      For  a  moment  Frodo  stood gaping. Then  in  desperation he  began  a ridiculous song that Bilbo had been rather  fond of (and indeed rather proud of, for he had made up the words himself). It was about an inn; and that  is probably why it came into Frodo's mind just then. Here it is in full. Only a few words of it are now, as a rule, remembered.      There is an inn, a merry old inn      beneath an old grey hill,      And there they brew a beer so brown      That the Man in the Moon himself came down      one night to drink his fill.
  282.  
  283.      The ostler has a tipsy cat      that plays a five-stringed fiddle;      And up and down he runs his bow,      Now squeaking high, now purring low,      now sawing in the middle.
  284.  
  285.      The landlord keeps a little dog      that is mighty fond of jokes;      When there's good cheer among the guests,      He cocks an ear at all the jests      and laughs until he chokes.
  286.  
  287.      They also keep a horned cow      as proud as any queen;      But music turns her head like ale,      And makes her wave her tufted tail      and dance upon the green.
  288.  
  289.      And O! the rows of silver dishes      and the store of silver spoons!      For Sunday* there's a special pair,      And these they polish up with care      on Saturday afternoons.
  290.  
  291.      The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
  292.      and the cat began to wail;      A dish and a spoon on the table danced,      The cow in the garden madly pranced,      and the little dog chased his tail.
  293.  
  294.      The Man in the Moon took another mug,      and then rolled beneath his chair;      And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,      Till in the sky the stars were pale,      and dawn was in the air.
  295.  
  296.      Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:      'The white horses of the Moon,      They neigh and champ their silver bits;      But their master's been and drowned his wits,      and the Sun'll be rising soon!'
  297.  
  298.      So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,      a jig that would wake the dead:      He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,      While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:      'It's after three!' he said.
  299.  
  300.      They rolled the Man slowly up the hill      and bundled him into the Moon,      While his horses galloped up in rear,      And the cow came capering like a deer,      and a dish ran up with the spoon.
  301.  
  302.      Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;      the dog began to roar,      The cow and the horses stood on their heads;      The guests all bounded from their beds      and danced upon the floor.
  303.  
  304.      With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!      the cow jumped over the Moon,
  305.      And the little dog laughed to see such fun,      And the Saturday dish went off at a run      with the silver Sunday spoon.
  306.  
  307.      The round Moon rolled behind the hill      as the Sun raised up her head.      She* hardly believed her fiery eyes;      For though it was day, to her surprise      they all went back to bed!      There was loud and long applause. Frodo had a  good voice, and the song tickled their fancy.  'Where's old Barley?' they  cried. 'He ought  to  hear this. Bob  ought to learn his cat  the fiddle, and then we'd have a  dance.' They called for more ale, and  began to shout: 'Let's have it again, master! Come on now! Once more!'      They made  Frodo have another drink,  and then  begin his  song  again, while many of them  joined  in; for the tune was  well known, and  they were quick at picking up  words.  It  was now Frodo's turn to feel  pleased  with himself. He capered  about on the table; and when he came  a second  time to the cow jumped over the Moon, he leaped in the air. Much too vigorously; for he came down,  bang, into a  tray full of mugs, and slipped, and  rolled off the table with  a crash, clatter, and bump!  The audience  all opened  their mouths wide for laughter, and stopped short a gaping silence; for the singer disappeared. He simply  vanished, as  if he had  gone slap through the floor without leaving a hole!      The  local hobbits  stared in  amazement, and then sprang to their feet and shouted for Barliman. All the company drew away from Pippin and Sam, who found themselves left alone in a comer, and eyed darkly and  doubtfully from a  distance.  It was  plain  that many  people  regarded  them  now  as  the companions of a travelling magician of unknown powers and purpose. But there was one  swarthy Bree-lander, who stood looking at them with  a knowing  and half-mocking expression that made them feel very uncomfortable. Presently he slipped out of the door, followed by the squint-eyed southerner: the two had been  whispering  together  a  good  deal  during  the  evening.  Harry  the gatekeeper also went out just behind them..      Frodo felt  a fool. Not knowing what else  to do, he crawled away under
  308. the tables to the  dark comer by Strider, who sat unmoved, giving no sign of his thoughts. Frodo leaned back  against the wall and took off the Ring. How it came to be on his finger he could not tell. He could only suppose that he had  been handling it in his pocket while he sang, and  that somehow  it had slipped on  when he stuck out  his hand with a jerk to save his  fall. For a moment he wondered if the Ring itself had not played him a trick; perhaps it had tried to reveal itself in response to some wish or command that was felt in the room. He did not like the looks of the men that had gone out.      'Well?' said Strider, when he reappeared.  'Why did you do that?  Worse than anything your friends could have said! You have put your foot in it! Or should I say your finger?'      'I don't know what you mean,' said Frodo, annoyed and alarmed.      'Oh yes, you do,' answered Strider; 'but  we had better wait  until the uproar has  died down. Then, if you  please, Mr.  Baggins, I should  like  a quiet word with you.'      'What about?' asked Frodo, ignoring the sudden use of his proper name.      'A matter of  some importance -  to us both,' answered Strider, looking Frodo in the eye. 'You may hear something to your advantage.'      'Very  well,' said Frodo,  trying to appear unconcerned. 'I'll talk  to you later.'      Meanwhile an argument was going on by the  fireplace. Mr. Butterbur had come trotting  in, and  he was now  trying  to listen to several conflicting accounts of the event at the same time.      'I saw him, Mr.  Butterbur,' said a hobbit;  'or leastways I didn't see him, if you take my meaning. He just vanished  into thin air, in a manner of speaking.'      'You don't say, Mr. Mugwort!' said the landlord, looking puzzled.      'Yes I do!' replied Mugwort. 'And I mean what I say, what's more.'      'There's some  mistake  somewhere,' said  Butterbur,  shaking his head. There was too much of  that Mr. Underhill to go vanishing  into thin air; or into thick air, as is more likely in this room.'      'Well, where is he now?' cried several voices.      'How should I  know?  He's welcome to go  where he will, so long as  he pays in the morning. There's Mr. Took, now: he's not vanished.'      'Well,  I  saw what I  saw,  and  I saw what I  didn't,'  said  Mugwort obstinately.      'And I say there's  some mistake,' repeated  Butterbur,  picking up the
  309. tray and gathering up the broken crockery.      'Of course there's a mistake!' said Frodo. 'I haven't vanished. Here  I am! I've just been having a few words with Strider in the comer.'      He  came forward into  the  firelight;  but most of the company  backed away,, even more perturbed than before. They were not in the least satisfied by his explanation that he had crawled away quickly  under the  tables after he  had fallen. Most of the  Hobbits  and the Men of Bree went off then  and there in a huff, having no fancy for further entertainment that evening. One or two gave Frodo a black look and departed muttering among themselves.  The Dwarves and the two or three strange Men that still remained got up and said good night to the landlord, but not to Frodo and his friends. Before long no one was left but Strider, who sat on, unnoticed, by the wall.      Mr. Butterbur did  not seem  much put out. He reckoned,  very probably, that his house would be full again on many future  nights, until the present mystery had been  thoroughly discussed. 'Now what have  you been doing,  Mr. Underhill?'  he asked.  'Frightening  my customers and breaking up my crocks with your acrobatics!'      'I am very sorry to have caused any trouble,' said Frodo. 'It was quite unintentional, I assure you. A most unfortunate accident.'      'All right, Mr. Underhill! But if you're going to do any more tumbling, or conjuring, or whatever it was, you'd best warn folk beforehand - and warn me. We're a bit suspicious round here of anything  out of  the way -uncanny, if you understand me; and we don't take to it all of a sudden.'      'I shan't be doing anything of the sort again, Mr. Butterbur, I promise you.  And now  I think I'll be getting  to bed. We shall be  making an early start. Will you see that our ponies are ready by eight o'clock?'      'Very  good! But  before  you go, I  should like  a  word  with you  in private, Mr. Underhill. Something has just come back to my mind that I ought to tell you. I hope that you'll not take it amiss. When I've seen to a thing or two, I'll come along to your room, if you're willing.'      'Certainly!'  said Frodo; but his  heart  sank.  He wondered  how  many private talks  he would have before  he  got to  bed,  and  what  they would reveal. Were  these people  all in league against him?  He  began to suspect even old Butterbur's fat face of concealing dark designs.
  310.  
  311.  
  312. Chapter 10. Strider
  313.  
  314.  
  315.      Frodo, Pippin, and Sam made their way back to the parlour. There was no light. Merry was not there, and the  fire had burned low.  It  was not until they had puffed up the embers into a blaze and thrown on a couple of faggots that they discovered Strider had come with them. There he was calmly sitting in a chair by the door!      'Hallo!' said Pippin. 'Who are you, and what do you want?'      'I  am called Strider,' he answered: 'and  though he may have forgotten it, your friend promised to have a quiet talk with me.'      'You  said  I  might  hear something to my advantage, I  believe,' said Frodo. 'What have you to say?'      'Several things,' answered Strider. 'But, of course, I have my price.'      'What do you mean?' asked Frodo sharply.      'Don't be alarmed! I mean just this: I will tell you  what I  know, and give you some good advice - but I shall want a reward.'      'And what will that be, pray?' said Frodo. He suspected now that he had fallen in with a rascal, and he thought uncomfortably  that  he had  brought only a little money with him. All of it would hardly satisfy a rogue, and he could not spare any of it.      'No more than  you can afford,' answered  Strider with a slow smile, as if he guessed Frodo's thoughts. 'Just this: you must take me along with you, until I wish to leave you.'      'Oh, indeed!' replied Frodo, surprised, but not much relieved. 'Even if I wanted another  companion, I should  not  agree to any such thing, until I knew a good deal more about you, and your business.'      'Excellent!' exclaimed  Strider,  crossing  his legs  and sitting  back comfortably. 'You seem to be coming to your senses again, and that is all to the good. You have been much too careless so far. Very well! I will tell you what I know, and leave the reward to  you. You may be glad to grant it, when you have heard me.'      'Go on then!' said Frodo. 'What do you know?'      'Too much; too many dark things,' said Strider grimly. 'But as for your business --' He got  up and went to the door,  opened it quickly  and looked out.  Then  he shut it quietly and  sat  down again. 'I have quick ears,' he went  on, lowering his voice, 'and  though I cannot disappear, I have hunted
  316. many  wild  and wary  things and I can usually avoid being  seen, if I wish. Now, I was behind the hedge this evening on the Road west of Bree, when four hobbits  came out  of the Downlands. I need not repeat all that they said to old  Bombadil  or  to  one  another, but  one  thing interested  me.  Please remember, said one of them,  that the name Baggins  must not be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill, if any name must be given. That interested me so much that I followed them here.  I slipped  over the gate just behind them.  Maybe Mr. Baggins  has  an  honest reason  for  leaving his name  behind; but if so, I should advise him and his friends to be more careful.'      'I don't see what interest my name has for any one in Bree,' said Frodo angrily,  'and I have still to  learn why  it interests you. Mr. Strider may have an honest reason  for spying  and eavesdropping;  but  if so,  I should advise him to explain it.'      'Well answered!' said Strider laughing. 'But the explanation is simple:      I was looking for  a Hobbit called Frodo Baggins. I wanted  to find him quickly. I had learned that he was carrying out of the Shire, well, a secret that concerned me and my friends.      'Now, don't mistake me!' he cried, as Frodo rose from his seat, and Sam jumped up  with a scowl. 'I shall take more care of  the secret than you do. And care  is  needed!' He leaned forward  and  looked at them. 'Watch  every shadow!' he said in a  low  voice. 'Black horsemen have passed through Bree. On  Monday one came down the Greenway, they say; and another appeared later, coming up the Greenway from the south.'      There was a silence. At last Frodo spoke to Pippin and Sam: 'I ought to have guessed  it from the way the gatekeeper greeted us,' he said. 'And  the landlord  seems  to  have heard something. Why did  he press us to join  the company?  And  why  on  earth  did we  behave so foolishly: we ought to have stayed quiet in here.'      'It would  have been better,' said Strider. 'I would  have stopped your going into  the  common-room, if I could; but the innkeeper would not let me in to see you, or take a message.'      'Do you think he------' began Frodo.      'No,  I  don't  think any  harm  of old Butterbur.  Only  he  does  not altogether like  mysterious vagabonds  of my sort.' Frodo gave him a puzzled look. 'Well, I have rather a rascally look, have I not?' said Strider with a curl of his lip and a  queer gleam in  his eye. 'But I  hope we shall get to
  317. know one another better.  When we do, I hope you will explain  what happened at the end of your song. For that little prank------'      'It was sheer accident!' interrupted Frodo.      'I wonder,' said Strider. 'Accident, then. That  accident has made your position dangerous.'      'Hardly more than it  was already,' said Frodo.  'I knew these horsemen were pursuing me;  but now  at any rate they seem to  have  missed me and to have gone away.'      'You  must not count on that!' said Strider sharply. 'They will return. And more  are  coming. There are others. I know their  number. I know  these Riders.' He paused,  and his  eyes were cold and hard. 'And there  are  some folk  in Bree who  are  not to be  trusted,'  he went on.  'Bill  Ferny, for instance. He  has an evil name in the Bree-land,  and queer folk call at his house.  You  must  have  noticed him among the  company:  a swarthy sneering fellow.  He  was very close with  one  of  the Southern  strangers, and they slipped  out   together  just  after  your  "accident".  Not  all  of  those Southerners mean well; and as for Ferny, he would sell anything  to anybody; or make mischief for amusement.'      'What  will Ferny sell,  and what has my accident got to do  with him?' said Frodo, still determined not to understand Strider's hints.      'News  of you,  of  course,'  answered  Strider.  'An  account of  your performance would  be very interesting to certain  people.  After that  they would hardly  need to be told your real name. It seems to me only too likely that they will hear of it before this night is over. Is that enough? You can do as you like  about my  reward: take me as a guide  or  not. But I may say that I know all the lands  between the Shire and  the Misty Mountains, for I have  wandered over  them for many years. I  am  older than  I look. I might prove useful. You will  have to leave the  open  road after tonight; for the horsemen will  watch  it  night and  day. You may  escape from  Bree, and be allowed to  go forward while the Sun is up;  but you won't go far. They will come on you in the wild, in some dark  place where  there is no help. Do you wish them to find you? They are terrible!'      The  hobbits looked at him,  and  saw  with surprise that  his face was drawn  as if with pain, and  his hands clenched the arms of  his  chair. The room was very quiet and still, and the light seemed to have grown dim. For a while he sat with unseeing eyes as if walking in distant memory or listening to sounds in the Night far away.
  318.      'There!' he  cried  after  a moment, drawing his hand  across his brow. 'Perhaps I know  more about these pursuers than you  do.  You fear them, but you do not fear them enough,  yet. Tomorrow you will  have to escape, if you can. Strider can take  you by paths that  are  seldom trodden. Will you have him?'      There was a heavy silence. Frodo made no answer, his mind was  confused with doubt and fear. Sam frowned,  and looked at his  master; and at last he broke out:      'With  your leave,  Mr. Frodo, I'd  say no! This Strider here, he warns and he says take care; and  I say  yes to that, and let's begin with him. He comes out  of  the Wild, and I  never heard no good  of such  folk. He knows something, that's  plain,  and more  than  I like; but it's no reason why we should let him go leading us out into  some dark place  far from help, as he puts it.'      Pippin fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. Strider did not reply to Sam, but turned his keen eyes  on Frodo. Frodo caught his glance and looked away. 'No,' he said slowly. 'I don't agree. I think, I think you are not really as you  choose to  look. You began  to talk to me like the Bree-folk,  but your voice has changed. Still Sam seems right in this: I don't see why you should warn us to take care, and yet ask us to take you on trust. Why the disguise? Who are  you? What do you really know about - about my business; and how  do you know it?'      'The lesson in caution has been well learned,' said Strider with a grim smile. 'But caution is one thing and wavering is another. You will never get to Rivendell now on your own, and to trust me is your only chance. You  must make up your  mind. I will answer some of your  questions, if that will help you to do so.  But  why should you believe  my story, if you do not trust me already? Still here it is------'      At that  moment  there  came a  knock at the  door.  Mr. Butterbur  had arrived with candles, and behind him was Nob with cans of hot water. Strider withdrew into a dark corner.      'I've come  to bid  you  good night,' said  the  landlord,  putting the candles on the table. 'Nob!  Take  the  water to the rooms!' He came in  and shut the door.      'It's like  this,' he began,  hesitating and looking troubled. 'If I've done any harm, I'm sorry indeed. But one thing drives out another, as you'll
  319. admit; and  I'm a busy man.  But first one thing and then another  this week have jogged my memory, as the saying goes; and not too late I hope. You see, I was asked to look out for hobbits of the Shire, and for one by the name of Baggins in particular.'      'And what has that got to do with me?' asked Frodo.      'Ah! you know best,'  said the landlord, knowingly.  'I won't give  you away;  but  I  was  told that  this  Baggins would be going by  the  name of Underhill, and I was given a description that fits you well enough, if I may say so.'      'Indeed! Let's have it then!' said Frodo, unwisely interrupting.      'A stout  little fellow with red cheeks,' said  Mr. Butterbur solemnly. Pippin chuckled,  but Sam looked indignant. 'That won't  help  you  much; it goes for  most hobbits. Barley, he says to me,' continued Mr. Butterbur with a glance at Pippin.  'But this one is taller than some and fairer than most, and he  has a cleft in his  chin: perky chap with a bright eye. Begging your pardon, but he said it, not me.'      'He said it? And who was he?' asked Frodo eagerly.      'Ah! That was Gandalf, if you know who I mean. A wizard they say he is, but he's a  good  friend of mine, whether or no. But now  I  don't know what he'll have to say to me, if I see him again: turn all my ale sour or me into a block of  wood, I  shouldn't wonder. He's  a  bit hasty. Still what's done can't be undone. '      'Well, what have you done?' said Frodo, getting impatient with the slow unravelling of Butterbur's thoughts.      'Where was I?' said the landlord,  pausing  and  snapping  his fingers. 'Ah,  yes!  Old Gandalf. Three  months  back he walked  right  into  my room without  a  knock. Barley, he says, I'm off in  the  morning.  Will  you  do something for me? You've  only to name it, I said. I'm in a hurry,  said he, and  I've no time myself, but I want  a message took to the Shire. Have  you anyone you can send, and trust to go? I can find someone, I  said, tomorrow, maybe, or the day after. Make it tomorrow,  he says, and then he gave  me  a letter.      'It's addressed plain enough,' said Mr.  Butterbur,  producing a letter from his pocket,  and reading out the  address slowly and proudly (he valued his reputation as a lettered man):      Mr FRODO BAGGINS, BAG END, HOBBITON in the SHIRE.      'A letter for me from Gandalf!' cried Frodo.
  320.      'Ah!' said Mr. Butterbur. 'Then your right name is Baggins?'      'It is,' said Frodo, 'and you had better give me that  letter  at once, and explain  why  you  never sent it.  That's  what you came  to tell  me, I suppose, though you've taken a long time to come to the point.'      Poor Mr. Butterbur looked  troubled.  'You're right, master,' he  said, 'and I beg  your pardon. And I'm mortal  afraid of what Gandalf will say, if harm comes  of it. But I didn't  keep  it back a-purpose. I put  it by safe. Then I couldn't find nobody willing to go to the Shire next day, nor the day after, and  none of  my own folk were to spare;  and  then  one  thing after another drove it out of my mind. I'm a  busy man. I'll do what I can to  set matters right, and if there's any help I can give, you've only to name it.      'Leaving the letter aside, I  promised Gandalf no less. Barley, he says to  me, this friend of mine from the Shire, he may  be coming out  this  way before long, him and another. He'll be calling himself Underhill. Mind that! But  you need  ask  no  questions.  And if I'm  not with him, he  may  be in trouble, and  he  may need  help. Do whatever you can for him,  and I'll  be grateful, he says. And here you are, and trouble is not far off, seemingly.'      'What do you mean?' asked Frodo.      'These  black  men,' said  the landlord lowering  his  voice.  'They're looking  for  Baggins, and if they mean well, then  I'm a hobbit. It was  on Monday, and all the dogs were yammering and the geese screaming. Uncanny,  I called  it. Nob, he came and told me that two  black  men were  at  the door asking  for a  hobbit called Baggins. Nob's hair was all stood on end. I bid the  black  fellows be off, and  slammed the door on them; but they've  been asking the same  question all the  way to  Archet, I hear. And that  Ranger, Strider, he's been asking  questions, too. Tried to get in here  to see you, before you'd had bite or sup, he did.'      'He did!' said Strider suddenly, coming  forward into  the light.  'And much trouble would have been saved, if you had let him in, Barliman.'      The landlord  jumped with surprise.  'You!'  he  cried.  'You're always popping up. What do you want now?'      'He's here with my leave,' said Frodo. 'He came to offer me his help.'      'Well, you  know your own business, maybe,' said Mr. Butterbur, looking suspiciously  at Strider. 'But if I  was in your plight,  I wouldn't take up with a Ranger.'      'Then who would  you take up with?' asked Strider. 'A fat innkeeper who
  321. only remembers his own name  because people  shout  it at him  all day? They cannot stay in The  Pony for ever, and they cannot go home. They have a long road before them. Will you go with them and keep the black men off?'      'Me? Leave Bree! I wouldn't do that for any money,' said Mr. Butterbur, looking  really scared. 'But why can't you stay here  quiet for  a  bit, Mr. Underhill?  What are  all  these  queer goings on? What are these black  men after, and where do they come from, I'd like to know?'      'I'm sorry I  can't explain it all,' answered  Frodo.  'I  am tired and very worried, and it's a long tale. But  if you mean to help me, I  ought to warn you  that you will be in  danger  as long as I  am in your house. These Black Riders: I am not sure, but I think, I fear they come from------'      'They  come from Mordor,'  said  Strider in a low  voice. 'From Mordor, Barliman, if that means anything to you.'      'Save us!' cried  Mr.  Butterbur turning  pale; the  name evidently was known to him. 'That is the worst news that has come to Bree in my time.' 'It is,' said  Frodo. 'Are  you still  willing to help  me?'  'I  am,'  said Mr. Butterbur. 'More than ever. Though I don't know what the likes of me  can do against, against------' he faltered.      'Against the Shadow in the  East,' said  Strider  quietly.  'Not  much, Barliman, but  every  little  helps. You  can let  Mr. Underhill  stay  here tonight, as Mr. Underhill, and you can forget the  name of Baggins,  till he is far away.'      'I'll do that,' said Butterbur. 'But they'll find out he's here without help from me, I'm afraid. It's a pity  Mr. Baggins drew attention to himself this evening, to  say no more. The story of that  Mr. Bilbo's  going off has been heard before tonight in Bree. Even our Nob has been doing some guessing in his slow pate: and there are others in Bree quicker in the uptake than he is.'      'Well, we can only hope the Riders won't come back yet,' said Frodo.      'I hope  not, indeed,' said Butterbur. 'But spooks  or no spooks,  they won't get in The Pony so easy.  Don't you worry till the morning. Nob'll say no word. No black man shall pass my doors, while  I can stand on my legs. Me and my folk'll keep watch  tonight; but you had best get some  sleep, if you can.'      'In any case we  must be called at  dawn,' said Frodo. 'We must get off as early as possible. Breakfast at six-thirty, please.'      'Right!  I'll see to the orders,'  said the landlord. 'Good night,  Mr.
  322. Baggins - Underhill, I should say! Good night -  now, bless me! Where's your Mr. Brandybuck?'      'I don't know,' said Frodo with sudden anxiety. They had  forgotten all about  Merry, and it was  getting late.  'I  am afraid  he is  out. He  said something about going for a breath of air.'      'Well, you do want looking after and no mistake: your party might be on a holiday!' said Butterbur. 'I must go and bar the doors quick, but I'll see your friend is let  in when  he comes.  I'd better send Nob to look for him. Good  night  to  you all!'  At  last  Mr. Butterbur  went out,  with another doubtful look at Strider and  a  shake of his  head. His footsteps retreated down the passage.      'Well?' said Strider. 'When are  you  going to open that letter?' Frodo looked carefully at  the seal before he broke it. It seemed certainly  to be Gandalf's. Inside, written in the  wizard's strong but  graceful script, was the following message:      THE PRANCING PONY, BREE. Midyear's Day, Shire Year, 1418.      Dear Frodo,      Bad news has reached me here.  I must go  off at  once. You  had better leave  Bag End  soon, and get out of the  Shire before  the  end  of July at latest. I will return as soon  as I can; and I will follow  you,  if  I find that you are gone. Leave a  message for me here,  if you  pass through Bree. You can trust the landlord (Butterbur). You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Strider. He knows our business and will help you. Make for  Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you.      Yours in haste      GANDALF.      PS. Do NOT use It  again, not far any reason whatever! Do not travel by night!      PPS. Make  sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn.      All that is gold does not glitter,      Not all those who wander are lost;      The old that is strong does not wither,      Deep roots are not reached by the frost.      From the ashes a fire shall be woken,      A light from the shadows shall spring;
  323.      Renewed shall be blade that was broken,      The crownless again shall be king.
  324.  
  325.  
  326.      PPPS.  I hope  Butterbur  sends  this promptly.  A  worthy man, but his memory is  like a lumber-roam: thing wanted always buried. If he  forgets, I shall roast him.      Fare Well!      Frodo read the letter to himself, and then passed it to Pippin and Sam. 'Really  old Butterbur has  made  a mess of things!' he  said. 'He  deserves roasting. If  I  had  got this  at  once,  we  might all have  been safe  in Rivendell  by now. But what can have happened to Gandalf? He writes as if he was going into great danger.'      'He has been doing that for many years,' said Strider.      Frodo  turned and looked at him thoughtfully, wondering about Gandalf's second postscript. 'Why didn't you tell me that you were Gandalf's friend at once?' he asked. 'It would have saved time.'      'Would it? Would any of  you have believed me till now?' said  Strider. 'I knew nothing  of this letter.  For  all I knew I  had  to persuade you to trust me without proofs, if I was to help you. In any case, I did not intend to tell you  all about myself at once. I had  to study you  first,  and make sure of  you. The  Enemy has set traps for  me before  now. As soon as I had made up my  mind, I was  ready to tell you  whatever  you asked.  But I must admit,' he added with a queer laugh,  'that I hoped you would take to me for my  own  sake. A  hunted  man sometimes  wearies  of distrust  and longs for friendship. But there, I believe my looks are against me.'      'They  are - at first sight at any rate,'  laughed  Pippin with  sudden relief after reading Gandalf's letter. 'But handsome is as handsome does, as we  say in the Shire; and  I daresay  we  shall all look much the same after lying for days in hedges and ditches.'      'It  would  take more than a few days, or weeks, or years, of wandering in the Wild to make you look like Strider,' he answered. 'And you would  die first, unless you are made of sterner stuff than you look to be.'      Pippin  subsided; but  Sam was not  daunted, and he  still eyed Strider dubiously. 'How do we know you are the  Strider that  Gandalf speaks about?' he  demanded. 'You  never  mentioned Gandalf, till this letter came out. You might be  a  play-acting spy, for all I can see, trying to get us to go with
  327. you. You might have done in the real Strider and took his clothes. What have you to say to that?'      'That you are a stout fellow,' answered  Strider;  'but I am  afraid my only answer to you, Sam Gamgee, is this. If I had killed the real Strider, I could kill you. And I  should have killed you already without  so much talk. If I was after the Ring, I could have it - NOW!'      He stood up,  and seemed suddenly to grow taller. In his eyes gleamed a light, keen and commanding. Throwing back his cloak, he laid his hand on the hilt of a sword that had  hung concealed by  his  side. They did not dare to move. Sam sat wide-mouthed staring at him dumbly.      'But I am the real Strider, fortunately,' he said, looking down at them with his face softened by a sudden smile. 'I am Aragorn son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will.'      There  was  a long silence.  At last Frodo  spoke  with  hesitation. 'I believed  that you were  a friend before the letter came,' he  said,  'or at least I wished to.  You  have frightened me several times tonight, but never in the way that servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine. I think one of his spies would - well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand.'      'I see,' laughed Strider. 'I  look foul and feel fair. Is that  it? All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.'      'Did the  verses apply to you then?' asked Frodo. 'I could not make out what they were  about.  But how did  you  know that they  were  in Gandalf's letter, if you have never seen it?'      'I did not  know,' he answered. 'But I am Aragorn, and  those verses go with  that  name.' He  drew out his sword,  and they saw that  the blade was indeed  broken  a  foot  below  the hilt. 'Not much  use is  it, Sam?'  said Strider. 'But the time is near when it shall be forged anew.'      Sam said nothing.      'Well,' said Strider, 'with Sam's permission we will call that settled. Strider shall be your guide. We shall have a rough road tomorrow. Even if we are allowed  to  leave  Bree unhindered, we can hardly hope now to leave  it unnoticed. But  I shall try to get  lost as soon as possible.  I know one or two ways out of Bree-land other than the main road. If once we shake off the pursuit, I shall make for Weathertop.'      'Weathertop?' said Sam. 'What's that?'      'It is a hill,  just to the north of the Road, about half way from here to Rivendell.  It commands a wide view all round; and there we shall have  a
  328. chance to look about us. Gandalf will make for that point, if he follows us. After Weathertop our  journey will become more difficult, and  we shall have to choose between various dangers.'      'When did you last see Gandalf?' asked Frodo. 'Do you know where he is, or what he is doing?'      Strider looked  grave. 'I do not know,' he said. 'I came  west with him in the spring.  I have often kept watch  on  the borders of the Shire in the last few years,  when he was busy elsewhere. He seldom left it unguarded. We last met on the first  of May: at  Sam  Ford down the Brandywine. He told me that his business with you had gone well, and that you would be starting for Rivendell in the last week  of September. As I knew  he  was at your side, I went away on a journey of my own. And that has proved ill;  for plainly some news reached him, and I was not at hand to help.      'I am troubled, for the  first time  since I have known  him. We should have had messages, even if he  could not come himself. When I returned, many days  ago, I heard the ill  news.  The tidings had gone  far  and wide  that Gandalf was missing and the horsemen had been seen. It was the Elven-folk of Gildor that told me this;  and  later  they told me that you had  left  your home; but there was no news of your leaving Buckland. I  have  been watching the East Road anxiously.'      'Do  you  think  the Black Riders  have  anything to do  with it - with Gandalf's absence, I mean?' asked Frodo.      'I  do  not know of anything else  that could have hindered him, except the  Enemy himself,'  said  Strider. 'But do not give  up  hope! Gandalf  is greater than you Shire-folk know -  as a rule you can only see his jokes and toys. But this business of ours will be his greatest task.'      Pippin yawned. 'I am sorry,' he said, 'but I am dead tired. In spite of all  the danger and worry  I must go to  bed, or sleep where I sit. Where is that silly fellow, Merry? It would be the last straw, if we had to go out in the dark to look for him.'      At that moment they heard a door slam; then feet came running along the passage. Merry came  in  with a  rush followed  by  Nob.  He shut  the  door hastily, and leaned against it. He was out of breath. They  stared at him in alarm for  a moment before he gasped: 'I have seen  them, Frodo! I have seen them! Black Riders!'      'Black Riders!' cried Frodo. 'Where?'      'Here. In the village. I  stayed indoors for  an  hour. Then as you did
  329. not  come  back, I  went out  for a  stroll.  I  had come back again and was standing just outside the light of the lamp looking at the stars. Suddenly I shivered and felt that something horrible was creeping near: there was a son of deeper shade among the shadows across the  road, just beyond the edge  of the lamplight. It slid away at once into the dark without a sound. There was no horse.'      'Which  way  did  it  go?'  asked Strider, suddenly  and sharply. Merry started, noticing the  stranger for the  first  time. 'Go  on!' said  Frodo. 'This is a friend of Gandalf's. I will explain later.'      'It seemed to make  off  up  the  Road,  eastward,' continued Merry. 'I tried to follow. Of course, it vanished almost at once; but I went round the corner and on as far as the last house on the Road.'      Strider looked at Merry with wonder. 'You have a stout heart,' he said; 'but it was foolish.'      'I don't know,' said Merry. 'Neither brave nor silly, I  think. I could hardly  help myself.  I  seemed to be drawn  somehow.  Anyway,  I  went, and suddenly I heard voices by the hedge. One was muttering; and the  other  was whispering,  or  hissing. I  couldn't hear a word  that was said. I did  not creep  any  closer,  because  I  began  to  tremble  all over. Then  I  felt terrified,  and I  turned  back,  and was  just  going  to  bolt  home, when something came behind me and I... I fell over.'      'I  found  him,  sir,'  put in Nob.  'Mr. Butterbur sent me out with  a lantern. I went down to West-gate, and then back up towards South-gate. Just nigh  Bill Ferny's  house I thought  I could see  something in  the  Road. I couldn't swear to  it, but it  looked to me as if two men was  stooping over something, lilting  it. I gave a shout, but where I got up to the spot there was  no  signs  of them,  and only Mr. Brandybuck lying by  the roadside. He seemed to be asleep. "I thought I had  fallen into  deep  water," he says to me, when I shook him. Very queer he was, and as soon as I had roused him, he got up and ran back here like a hare.'      'I am  afraid that's true,'  said Merry, 'though I  don't know  what  I said. I had an ugly dream, which I can't remember. I went to pieces. I don't know what came over me.'      'I  do,' said Strider.  'The Black Breath. The  Riders  must have  left their horses outside, and passed back through the South-gate in secret. They will know all the news now, for  they have visited  Bill Ferny; and probably that Southerner was a spy as well. Something may happen in the night, before
  330. we leave Bree.'      'What  will happen?'  said  Merry.  'Will they attack the inn?'  'No, I think not,' said Strider.  'They are not all here yet. And in any  case that is not their way. In dark and loneliness  they are strongest; they will  not openly attack a house where there are lights and many people -not until they are desperate, not while all the  long  leagues of Eriador still  lie before us.  But their  power  is in  terror, and already some in Bree are in  their clutch. They will drive these wretches to some evil work: Ferny, and some of the strangers, and, maybe,  the gatekeeper too. They had words with Harry at West-gate on Monday. I was watching them. He was white and shaking when they left him.'      'We seem to have enemies all round,' said Frodo. 'What are we to do?'      'Stay here, and do not  go to  your rooms! They are sure  to have found out which those  are. The hobbit-rooms  have windows looking north and close to the ground. We will all remain together and bar this window and the door. But first Nob and I will fetch your luggage.'      While Strider was  gone, Frodo gave Merry a  rapid account of all  that had happened since supper. Merry was  still reading and  pondering Gandalf's letter when Strider and Nob returned.      'Well Masters,' said  Nob, 'I've ruffled up  the clothes  and  put in a bolster down the  middle of  each bed.  And I made a  nice imitation of your head  with a brown woollen mat, Mr. Bag - Underhill,  sir,' he added with  a grin.      Pippin laughed. 'Very life-like!'  he said. 'But  what will happen when they have penetrated the disguise?'      'We shall  see,'  said  Strider.  'Let us hope  to hold the  fort  till morning.'      'Good  night to  you,' said Nob, and went off to take  his part in  the watch on the doors.      Their bags and gear they piled on the parlour-floor. They pushed a  low chair against the door and shut the window. Peering  out, Frodo saw that the night was still clear. The Sickle was swinging bright above the shoulders of Bree-hill. He then closed and barred  the heavy inside shutters and drew the curtains together. Strider built up the fire and blew out all the candles.      The  hobbits lay  down  on their blankets  with their feet  towards the hearth; but  Strider settled himself  in the chair against  the  door.  They
  331. talked for a little, for Merry still had several questions to ask.      'Jumped over  the Moon!'  chuckled  Merry as he rolled himself  in  his blanket. 'Very ridiculous of you, Frodo! But I wish I had been there to see. The worthies of Bree will be discussing it a hundred years hence.'      'I  hope so,' said Strider. Then  they all fell  silent, and one by one the hobbits dropped off to sleep.
  332.  
  333.  
  334.  
  335. Chapter 11. A Knife in the Dark
  336.  
  337.  
  338.      As  they prepared  for sleep  in  the  inn at  Bree,  darkness  lay  on Buckland; a mist strayed in the dells and along the river-bank. The house at Crickhollow stood silent. Fatty Bolger opened the door cautiously and peered out. A feeling of fear had been growing on him all day, and he was unable to rest or go to bed: there was a brooding threat  in the breathless night-air. As he  stared out into the gloom, a black shadow moved under the trees;  the gate  seemed  to open  of its own  accord and close again without  a  sound. Terror seized him. He  shrank  back,  and for a moment he stood trembling in the hall. Then he shut and locked the door.      The night  deepened.  There  came  the  soft  sound of horses  led with stealth  along the  lane.  Outside  the gate  they stopped, and three  black figures entered,  like shades of night  creeping across the ground. One went to the door, one to the corner of the house on  either side; and there  they stood, as  still as the shadows of  stones, while night went slowly on.  The house and the quiet trees seemed to be waiting breathlessly.      There was a faint stir  in the leaves, and  a cock crowed far away. The cold hour before dawn was passing. The figure by the door moved. In the dark without moon or stars a drawn blade gleamed,  as  if a chill light had  been unsheathed. There was a blow, soft but heavy, and the door shuddered.      'Open, in the name of Mordor!' said a voice thin and menacing.      At a second blow the door yielded and fell back, with timbers burst and lock broken. The black figures passed swiftly in.      At that moment, among the trees nearby,  a  horn rang out.  It rent the night like fire on a hill-top.      AWAKE! FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE!      Fatty Bolger had not been idle. As soon as he saw the dark shapes creep from the garden, he knew that he must run for it, or perish. And run he did, out  of the  back door, through  the garden,  and over the  fields.  When he reached  the  nearest  house,  more  than a mile  away, he  collapsed on the doorstep. 'No, no, no!'  he was  crying. 'No,  not me! I haven't got it!' It was  some time  before anyone could make out what he  was babbling about. At last they got the idea that enemies were in Buckland, some strange  invasion
  339. from the Old Forest. And then they lost no more time.      FEAR! FIRE! FOES!      The Brandybucks were blowing  the Horn-call of  Buckland,  that had not been sounded for  a hundred years, not  since the white wolves came  in  the Fell Winter, when the Brandywine was frozen over.      AWAKE! AWAKE!      Far-away answering horns were heard. The alarm was spreading. The black figures fled from the house.  One  of them  let fall a  hobbit-cloak  on the step, as he ran. In the lane the noise  of hoofs broke out, and gathering to a gallop, went hammering away into the darkness. All about Crickhollow there was the sound  of horns blowing, and voices crying and feet running. But the Black Riders rode like a gale to the North-gate. Let the little people blow! Sauron  would deal  with them later. Meanwhile they had another errand: they knew now that the house  was empty and the Ring had gone. They rode down the guards at the gate and vanished from the Shire.      In  the early night  Frodo woke from deep  sleep, suddenly, as if  some sound or presence  had disturbed  him. He saw that Strider was sitting alert in his  chair: his  eyes gleamed in  the light of the  fire, which had  been tended and was burning brightly; but he made no sign or movement.      Frodo soon went to sleep again; but his dreams were again troubled with the noise  of wind and of galloping  hoofs.  The wind  seemed to be  curling round the house and shaking it; and far off  he heard a horn blowing wildly. He  opened his  eyes,  and  heard a  cock  crowing  lustily in the inn-yard. Strider  had  drawn the  curtains and pushed back the shutters with a clang. The  first  grey light of day  was in the room, and  a  cold  air was coming through the open window.      As soon  as  Strider  had roused them  all,  he led  the  way  to their bedrooms. When they  saw them they were glad that they had taken his advice: the windows had been forced  open and were  swinging, and  the curtains were flapping; the beds  were tossed about,  and the bolsters  slashed and  flung upon the floor; the brown mat was torn to pieces.      Strider  immediately  went  to fetch the landlord. Poor  Mr.  Butterbur looked sleepy and frightened. He had hardly closed his eyes all night (so he said), but he had never heard a sound.      'Never has such  a thing happened  in my  time!' he cried,  raising his hands in horror. 'Guests unable to sleep in  their beds,  and good  bolsters
  340. ruined and all! What are we coming to?'      'Dark times,' said  Strider. 'But for  the present you  may be left  in peace,  when you have got rid of us. We will leave at once. Never mind about breakfast: a drink  and a bite standing will have to do. We shall be  packed in a few minutes.'      Mr. Butterbur hurried off to see that their ponies were  got ready, and to fetch them a 'bite'. But very soon he came back in dismay. The ponies had vanished!  The stable-doors had all  been opened in the night, and they were gone: not only Merry's ponies, but every other horse and beast in the place.      Frodo was  crushed by the news. How  could they hope to reach Rivendell on foot, pursued  by  mounted enemies? They might as  well  set  out for the Moon. Strider sat silent for a while, looking at the hobbits,  as if he  was weighing up their strength and courage.      'Ponies would  not help  us to  escape  horsemen,'  he  said  at  last, thoughtfully, as if he guessed  what Frodo  had in  mind. 'We should  not go much slower on foot, not  on the roads that I mean to take.  I was  going to walk in any case. It is the food and stores that trouble me. We cannot count on getting anything to  eat between here and Rivendell, except  what we take with  us; and we ought to take plenty  to spare; for we  may be delayed,  or forced  to  go round-about, far out  of  the direct way.  How much  are  you prepared to carry on your backs?'      'As  much as we must,' said Pippin with  a sinking heart, but trying to show that he was tougher than he looked (or felt).      'I can carry enough for two,' said Sam defiantly.      'Can't  anything be done,  Mr. Butterbur?' asked Frodo. 'Can't we get a couple of  ponies in the village, or even one  just for the baggage? I don't suppose we  could  hire  them, but we might be able to buy them,' he  added, doubtfully, wondering if he could afford it.      'I  doubt  it,'  said   the  landlord  unhappily.  'The  two  or  three riding-ponies that there were in Bree were stabled  in  my yard, and they're gone.  As for other animals, horses or ponies for draught or what not, there are very few of them in Bree, and they won't be for sale. But I'll do what I can. I'll rout out Bob and send him round as soon as may be.'      'Yes,' said Strider reluctantly, 'you  had better do that. I am  afraid we  shall have to try  to get  one pony at least. But so ends  all  hope  of starting early,  and  slipping away quietly! We might as  well have  blown a horn to announce our departure. That was part of their plan, no doubt.'
  341.      'There is one crumb of comfort,' said Merry, 'and more than a  crumb, I hope: we  can have  breakfast while we wait - and sit down to it.  Let's get hold of Nob!'      In the end there was more  than three hours'  delay. Bob came back with the  report  that  no horse or pony was to be got for love  or  money in the neighbourhood - except one: Bill Ferny had  one that he might possibly sell. 'A poor old half-starved creature it is,'  said Bob; 'but he won't part with it for less than thrice its worth, seeing how  you're placed, not if I knows Bill Ferny.'      'Bill  Ferny?'  said Frodo. 'Isn't there some trick? Wouldn't the beast bolt back to him with all our stuff, or help in tracking us, or something?'      'I wonder,' said Strider. 'But I cannot imagine any animal running home to him, once  it got  away.  I  fancy this  is only an  afterthought of kind Master  Ferny's: just a  way of increasing his profits  from the affair. The chief  danger is that the poor beast is probably at  death's door. But there does not seem any choice. What does he want for it?'      Bill Ferny's price was twelve  silver pennies; and  that  was indeed at least  three times the pony's value in those pans. It  proved to  be a bony, underfed, and dispirited  animal; but  it did  not look like dying just yet. Mr. Butterbur paid for it himself, and offered Merry  another eighteen pence as  some  compensation  for  the  lost animals. He was an  honest  man,  and well-off as things were reckoned  in Bree;  but thirty silver pennies was  a sore blow to him, and being cheated by Bill Ferny made it harder to bear.      As a matter of fact he came out on the right side in the end. It turned out later that only one  horse had been actually stolen. The others had been driven off, or  had  bolted in terror, and were found wandering in different corners  of  the  Bree-land.  Merry's  ponies  had  escaped altogether,  and eventually (having a good deal of sense) they made their way to the Downs in search of Fatty Lumpkin. So they came under  the care  of Tom Bombadil for a while, and were well-off. But when  news of the events at Bree came to Tom's ears, he sent them to Mr. Butterbur, who thus got five good beasts at a very fair price. They had  to work harder in Bree, but  Bob treated them well; so on the whole  they were lucky: they missed a dark and dangerous journey. But they never came to Rivendell.      However, in the meanwhile for all Mr. Butterbur knew his money was gone for  good, or  for bad.  And he had other troubles. For  there  was a  great commotion as soon as  the remaining  guests were astir and heard news of the
  342. raid  on the inn. The southern travellers had lost several horses and blamed the innkeeper loudly, until it became known that one of their own number had also  disappeared  in the  night,  none  other than Bill Ferny's squint-eyed companion. Suspicion fell on him at once.      'If you pick up with  a  horse-thief, and  bring him to my house,' said Butterbur angrily, 'you ought to pay  for all the damage yourselves and  not come shouting at me. Go and ask Ferny where your handsome friend is!' But it appeared that he was nobody's friend, and nobody could recollect when he had joined their party.      After  their  breakfast the  hobbits had to re-pack,  and get  together further  supplies for  the  longer  journey  they were now expecting. It was close on ten o'clock before they at last got off. By  that time the whole of Bree was buzzing with excitement. Frodo's vanishing trick; the appearance of the black  horsemen; the robbing of the stables; and not least the news that Strider  the Ranger  had joined the  mysterious hobbits, made such a tale as would last for  many  uneventful years. Most of  the inhabitants of Bree and Staddle, and many  even  from Combe and Archet, were crowded in the  road to see the travellers start. The other  guests in  the inn were at the doors or hanging out of the windows.      Strider had changed his mind, and  he decided to leave Bree by the main road. Any attempt to set  off across country at once would only make matters worse: half the inhabitants would follow them,  to see what they were up to, and to prevent them from trespassing.      They said farewell to Nob and Bob, and took leave of Mr. Butterbur with many thanks. 'I  hope we shall  meet again some  day, when things are  merry once more,' said Frodo. 'I  should like nothing better than  to stay in your house in peace for a while.'      They tramped off, anxious and downhearted, under the eyes of the crowd. Not  all  the faces were friendly, nor all the words that were shouted.  But Strider seemed to be held in awe by most of the Bree-landers, and those that he stared at shut their mouths and drew away. He walked in front with Frodo; next came  Merry  and Pippin; and last came Sam leading the pony,  which was laden with as much  of their baggage as  they  had the heart to give it; but already it looked less dejected,  as  if  it approved of the  change in  its fortunes.  Sam  was chewing an  apple thoughtfully. He had a pocket full  of them:  a parting  present from Nob and  Bob. 'Apples for walking, and a pipe
  343. for sitting,' he said. 'But I reckon I'll miss them both before long.'      The hobbits took no notice of the inquisitive heads that peeped  out of doors,  or  popped over walls and fences,  as they passed. But as they  drew near to  the further gate, Frodo saw a  dark  ill-kept  house behind a thick hedge: the  last  house  in the village.  In one of the  windows he caught a glimpse of a sallow face with sly, slanting eyes; but it vanished at once.      'So that's where that southerner is hiding!' he thought. 'He looks more than half like a goblin.'      Over the hedge  another  man  was  staring boldly.  He  had heavy black brows, and  dark scornful eyes; his large mouth curled in  a  sneer.  He was smoking a  short black pipe. As they approached he took it out  of his mouth and spat.      'Morning,  Longshanks!' he  said.  'Off  early?  Found some  friends at last?' Strider nodded, but did not answer.  'Morning, my little friends!' he said  to the  others. 'I suppose you know who you've taken  up  with? That's Stick-at-naught  Strider,  that is!  Though  I've  heard other names not  so pretty.  Watch out tonight! And you,  Sammie, don't  go ill-treating my poor old pony! Pah!' He spat again.      Sam turned quickly. 'And you.  Ferny,' he said, 'put your ugly face out of sight, or it will get  hurt.' With a sudden flick, quick as lightning, an apple left his hand and hit Bill square on the nose. He ducked too late, and curses  came from  behind  the  hedge.  'Waste  of a  good apple,'  said Sam regretfully, and strode on.      At last  they  left  the  village  behind. The  escort of children  and stragglers  that  had  followed  them  got  tired  and  turned  back at  the South-gate. Passing through, they kept on along the Road for some  miles. It bent to the left, curving back into its eastward line as it rounded the feet of  Bree-hill,  and  then  it  began to run  swiftly downwards  into  wooded country. To their left they could see some of the houses and hobbit-holes of Staddle on the  gentler  south-eastern  slopes of  the hill; down in  a deep hollow away north of the Road there were wisps of rising  smoke  that showed where Combe lay;      Archet was hidden in the trees beyond.      After the  Road had run down some way, and  had left Bree-hill standing tall and brown behind, they came on a narrow track that led off towards  the North. 'This is where we leave the open and take to cover,' said Strider.      'Not a "short cut", I hope,' said  Pippin.  'Our last short cut through
  344. woods nearly ended in disaster.'      'Ah, but you had not  got me with you then,' laughed Strider. 'My cuts, short  or long, don't go wrong.' He took a look up and down the Road. No one was in sight; and he led the way quickly down towards the wooded valley.      His  plan, as  far as  they  could understand  it without  knowing  the country, was to go towards Archet at first, but to bear right and pass it on the  east, and then to steer as straight as he could over the wild lands  to Weathertop Hill. In that way they  would, if all went well,  cut off a great loop of the Road,  which  further on bent southwards to avoid the Midgewater Marshes.  But,  of  course, they  would have  to  pass  through  the marshes themselves, and Strider's description of them was not encouraging.      However,  in the meanwhile, walking was not unpleasant.  Indeed, if  it had not been for the disturbing events  of the night before, they would have enjoyed this pan of the journey better than any up to that time. The sun was shining, clear but not too hot. The woods in the valley were still leafy and full  of  colour, and  seemed  peaceful  and wholesome. Strider  guided them confidently among the many crossing paths, although left  to themselves they would soon have  been at  a loss. He was taking a wandering course with many turns and doublings, to put off any pursuit.      'Bill Ferny will have watched where we left the Road, for certain,'  he said;  'though I don't think he  will follow  us himself. He  knows the land round here well enough, but he knows he is not a  match for me in a wood. It is what he may tell others that I am afraid of. I don't suppose they are far away. If they think we have made for Archet, so much the better.'      Whether because  of Strider's skill or for some other reason,  they saw no sign and heard no  sound of any other living thing all  that day: neither two-footed,  except  birds; nor  four-footed,  except  one  fox  and  a  few squirrels. The next day  they began to steer a steady  course eastwards; and still all was quiet and  peaceful. On  the third day out from Bree they came out of  the  Chetwood. The  land  had been falling steadily, ever since they turned aside from the  Road,  and they  now  entered a wide flat expanse  of country, much more difficult to manage. They were  far beyond the borders of the Bree-land,  out in the  pathless  wilderness, and  drawing  near  to the Midge-water Marshes.      The ground now became damp, and in places boggy and here and there they came  upon pools, and  wide  stretches of reeds  and rushes filled with  the warbling of little hidden  birds. They  had to pick their  way  carefully to
  345. keep  both  dry-footed and  on  their  proper  course.  At  first  they made fan-progress,  but as  they  went on, their passage  became slower  and more dangerous.  The marshes were bewildering and  treacherous, and there was  no permanent trail even for Rangers  to find through their shifting  quagmires. The  flies began  to torment them, and the air was full  of  clouds of  tiny midges that crept up their sleeves and breeches and into their hair.      'I  am being eaten alive!'  cried  Pippin. 'Midgewater!  There are more midges than water!'      'What  do  they live  on  when  they  can't  get  hobbit?'  asked  Sam, scratching his neck.      They spent a miserable day in this lonely and unpleasant country. Their camping-place  was  damp, cold,  and uncomfortable;  and the  biting insects would not let  them sleep. There were also abominable creatures haunting the reeds  and tussocks that from  the sound  of them were evil relatives of the cricket.  There  were  thousands  of  them,  and  they  squeaked all  round, neek-breek,  breek-neek, unceasingly all the night, until the  hobbits  were nearly frantic.      The  next day,  the fourth, was little  better, and the night almost as comfortless. Though  the Neekerbreekers (as Sam called them)  had been  left behind, the midges still pursued them.      As Frodo lay, tired but unable to close his eyes, it seemed to him that far away  there came  a light in the eastern sky: it  flashed and faded many times. It was not the dawn, for that was still some hours off.      'What is the  light?'  he said  to  Strider,  who had  risen,  and  was standing, gazing ahead into the night.      'I do  not know,' Strider answered. 'It is too distant to make  out. It is like lightning that leaps up from the hill-tops.'      Frodo lay down again, but for a long while he could still see the white flashes, and against them the tall dark figure  of Strider,  standing silent and watchful. At last he passed into uneasy sleep.      They had not  gone  far  on  the  fifth day  when  they  left  the last straggling pools and  reed-beds of the marshes  behind them. The land before them began steadily  to rise again. Away in the distance eastward they could now  see a line of hills. The highest of them was at the  right of  the line and  a little  separated from the  others. It  had a  conical top,  slightly flattened at the summit.      'That  is Weathertop,' said Strider. 'The Old Road,  which we have left
  346. far  away on our right, runs to the south  of it and passes not far from its foot. We  might  reach it by noon tomorrow, if we  go straight towards it. I suppose we had better do so.'      'What do you mean?' asked Frodo.      'I mean: when we do get there, it is not certain what we shall find. It is close to the Road.'      'But surely we were hoping to find Gandalf there?'      'Yes; but the hope is faint.  If he comes  this way at  all, he may not pass through  Bree, and so  he may not know  what we  are doing. And anyway, unless by luck we arrive almost together, we shall miss one another; it will not be safe for him or for us to wait there long. If the Riders fail to find us in the wilderness,  they are likely to make for Weathertop themselves. It commands a wide view all round. Indeed, there  are many birds and  beasts in this country that  could see us,  as we stand here, from that hill-top.  Not all the  birds are to be trusted,  and there are other spies more  evil than they are.'      The hobbits looked  anxiously at  the distant hills. Sam looked up into the pale sky, fearing to see hawks  or eagles hovering over them with bright unfriendly eyes. 'You do make me feel uncomfortable  and lonesome, Strider!' he said.      'What do you advise us to do?' asked Frodo.      'I  think,' answered Strider  slowly, as  if he was not quite sure,  'I think the best thing is to  go as straight eastward from  here as we can, to make for the line of hills, not for Weathertop. There we can strike a path I know that runs at their feet; it will  bring us to Weathertop from the north and less openly. Then we shall see what we shall see.'      All that day they plodded along, until the cold  and early evening came down.  The  land  became  drier and more barren;  but  mists and vapours lay behind them on the marshes. A few melancholy  birds were piping and wailing, until the round red sun sank slowly into the western shadows; then  an empty silence fell.  The hobbits  thought  of  the  soft light of sunset  glancing through the cheerful windows of Bag End far away.      At  the day's  end  they came to a stream  that wandered  down from the hills to lose  itself  in the stagnant marshland, and they went up along its banks while the light  lasted. It was already night when at last they halted and made  their  camp under some stunted alder-trees  by  the shores of  the stream. Ahead there loomed now against the dusky  sky the bleak and treeless
  347. backs of the hills. That night they set a watch, and Strider, it seemed, did not  sleep at all. The moon was waxing, and in the early night-hours a  cold grey light lay on the land.      Next morning they set out  again soon after sunrise.  There was a frost in the air, and the  sky was a  pale clear blue. The hobbits felt refreshed, as if they had had a night of unbroken sleep. Already they were getting used to much walking  on short commons  - shorter  at  any rate than  what in the Shire they  would have thought barely enough  to  keep them  on  their legs. Pippin declared that Frodo was looking twice the hobbit that he had been.      'Very odd,' said Frodo, tightening his belt, 'considering that there is actually a good deal less of me. I hope the  thinning process will not go on indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith.'      'Do  not  speak  of  such  things!'  said  Strider  quickly,  and  with surprising earnestness.      The  hills drew nearer.  They  made an  undulating  ridge, often rising almost to a thousand feet, and here and there falling again to low clefts or passes leading into  the eastern land  beyond.  Along the crest of the ridge the hobbits could see what looked to be the remains of green-grown walls and dikes, and in the clefts there still stood the ruins  of old works of stone. By night they had reached  the feet of the westward  slopes, and there  they camped. It was the night of the fifth of October, and they were six days out from Bree.      In the morning  they  found, for the first time since they had left the Chetwood,  a  track  plain  to  see.  They  turned  right  and  followed  it southwards. It ran cunningly, taking a line that seemed chosen so as to keep as much hidden as possible from the view, both of the hill-tops above and of the  flats to the west. It dived into  dells,  and hugged steep  banks;  and where it passed over flatter and more open ground on either side of it there were lines of large  boulders and hewn stones that  screened the  travellers almost like a hedge.      'I wonder who made this path, and what for,' said Merry, as they walked along one of  these  avenues, where  the  stones  were unusually  large  and closely  set. 'I am  not  sure that I like  it: it  has  a - well, rather  a barrow-wightish look. Is there any barrow on Weathertop?'      'No. There  is no barrow on  Weathertop, nor  on  any of these  hills,' answered Strider. 'The  Men of  the West  did not live here; though in their latter days they defended  the hills for a while against  the evil that came
  348. out of Angmar.  This  path was made to serve the  forts along the walls. But long before,  in the first  days of  the North  Kingdom, they built  a great watch-tower  on  Weathertop,  Amon  Syl  they called  it.  It was burned and broken, and nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown on  the old hill's head.  Yet once it was tall and  fair.  It is  told  that Elendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-galad out of the West, in the days of the Last Alliance.'      The  hobbits gazed  at Strider. It seemed  that he  was  learned in old lore, as well as in  the ways of the wild. 'Who was Gil-galad?' asked Merry; but Strider did not answer, and seemed to be lost in thought. Suddenly a low voice murmured:      Gil-galad was an Elven-king.      Of him the harpers sadly sing:      the last whose realm was fair and free      between the Mountains and the Sea.
  349.  
  350.      His sword was long, his lance was keen,      his shining helm afar was seen;      the countless stars of heaven's field      were mirrored in his silver shield.
  351.  
  352.      But long ago he rode away,      and where he dwelleth none can say;      for into darkness fell his star      in Mordor where the shadows are.      The others turned in amazement, for the voice was Sam's.      'Don't stop!' said Merry.      'That's all I know,' stammered  Sam, blushing.  'I learned  it from Mr. Bilbo when I was a lad. He used to  tell me tales  like that, knowing  how I was always one for  hearing about Elves. It was Mr. Bilbo  as taught  me  my letters.  He was  mighty  book-learned was dear  old Mr. Bilbo. And he wrote poetry. He wrote what I have just said.'      'He did  not make it up,' said Strider. 'It  is pan of the lay  that is called The Fall of Gil-galad, which is in an ancient tongue. Bilbo must have translated it. I never knew that.'      'There was a lot more,' said Sam,  'all about  Mordor.  I  didn't learn that part, it gave me the shivers I never thought I should be going that way
  353. myself!'      'Going to Mordor!' cried Pippin. 'I hope it won't come to that!'      'Do not speak that name so loudly!' said Strider.      It was  already  mid-day  when they  drew near the southern end of  the path, and saw before them,  in the pale  clear light  of the  October sun, a grey-green bank, leading up like a  bridge on to  the northward slope of the hill They decided to make for the top at once,  while the daylight was broad Concealment was no longer  possible,  and they could only hope that no enemy or spy was observing  them. Nothing  was to be seen  moving  on the hill. If Gandalf was anywhere about, there was no sign of him.      On the western flank  of Weathertop they  found a  sheltered hollow, at the  bottom of which  there was  a bowl-shaped dell with grassy sides. There they left  Sam  and Pippin with the pony and  their  packs and  luggage. The other three went on. After half an hour's plodding climb Strider reached the crown  of the hill; Frodo and Merry followed, tired and breathless. The last slope had been steep and rocky.      On  the top they found,  as  Strider had said,  a wide  ring of ancient stonework, now crumbling or covered with age-long grass. But in the centre a cairn of broken stones had been piled. They were blackened as  if with fire. About them  the turf  was  burned to the roots and all within the  ring  the grass was scorched  and shrivelled, as if flames had swept the hill-top; but there was no sign of any living thing.      Standing upon the  rim of the ruined circle,  they saw all round  below them a  wide  prospect,  for the most pan of  lands empty  and  featureless, except for patches of woodland away to the  south, beyond which  they caught here and  there  the glint of  distant water. Beneath them  on this southern side there  ran  like  a  ribbon  the Old Road,  coming  out of the West and winding up and down, until it faded behind a ridge of dark land to the east. Nothing was moving on it. Following  its line eastward  with their eyes they saw the Mountains: the nearer foothills were brown and sombre;      behind them stood taller shapes of  grey, and  behind  those again were high white peaks glimmering among the clouds.      'Well, here we are!' said Merry. 'And very  cheerless and uninviting it looks! There is no water and no shelter. And no sign of Gandalf. But I don't blame him for not waiting - if he ever came here.'      'I wonder,' said Strider, looking round thoughtfully. 'Even if he was a day or two behind us at Bree, he could have arrived here first.  He can ride
  354. very swiftly when need presses.' Suddenly he stooped and looked at the stone on the top of the  cairn; it was flatter than the others, and  whiter, as if it had escaped the fire. He picked it up and examined it, turning  it in his fingers. "This has been  handled recently,' he said.  'What do you  think of these marks?'      On  the flat under-side Frodo saw  some scratches: 'There seems to he a stroke, a dot, and three more strokes,' he said.      'The stroke  on the left  might  be a G-rune  with thin branches,' said Strider. 'It might be a sign left by Gandalf, though one cannot be sure. The scratches are fine, and they certainly look fresh. But the  marks might mean something  quite  different, and have  nothing  to do  with us.  Rangers use runes, and they come here sometimes.'      'What could they mean, even if Gandalf made them?' asked Merry      'I  should say,' answered Strider, 'that they stood for G3, and  were a sign that Gandalf was here on October the third: that is three days ago now. It would also show that he was in a hurry and danger was at hand, so that he had no time or  did not dare to write anything longer or plainer. If that is so, we must be wary.'      'I wish we could  feel  sure that he made  the marks, whatever they may mean,' said Frodo 'It would be a  great  comfort to  know that he was on the way, in front of us or behind us.'      'Perhaps,' said  Strider. 'For myself, I believe that he was  here, and was in danger. There have been scorching flames here; and now the light that we saw three  nights ago in the eastern sky comes back to  my  mind. I guess that he was attacked on this hill-top,  but with what result  I cannot tell. He  is here no longer, and we must now look after ourselves and make our own way to Rivendell, as best we can '      'How far  is  Rivendell?' asked Merry, gazing round wearily. The  world looked wild and wide from Weathertop.      'I don't know if the Road has  ever  been measured in miles  beyond the Forsaken Inn, a day's  journey east of Bree,' answered Strider. 'Some say it is so far, and some say otherwise. It is a strange road,  and folk are  glad to reach their  journey's end, whether the time is long or short. But I know how long it would  take me on  my  own  feet,  with fair  weather and no ill fortune twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen, where the Road crosses the Loudwater that  runs  out of Rivendell. We  have at  least a fortnight's journey before us, for I do not think we shall be able to use the Road.'
  355.      'A fortnight!' said Frodo. 'A lot may happen in that time.'      'It may,' said Strider.      They stood for a while silent on the hill-top, near its southward edge. In  that  lonely  place   Frodo  for  the  first  time  fully  realized  his homelessness and danger. He wished bitterly that his fortune had left him in the quiet  and beloved Shire.  He  stared down at the hateful Road,  leading back westward - to his  home.  Suddenly he  was aware that  two black specks were moving slowly along  it,  going westward; and looking again he saw that three others were creeping eastward to meet them. He gave a cry and clutched Strider's arm.      'Look,' he said, pointing downwards.      At once Strider flung  himself on  the ground behind the ruined circle, pulling Frodo down beside him. Merry threw himself alongside.      'What is it?' he whispered.      'I do not know, but I fear the worst,' answered Strider.      Slowly  they crawled  up  to the edge of  the  ring  again,  and peered through a cleft  between two jagged  stones. The light was no longer bright, for the clear morning had faded, and clouds creeping out of the East had now overtaken  the sun,  as it  began to go  down.  They could all see the black specks, but neither Frodo nor Merry could make out their shapes for certain; yet something told them that there, far below, were Black  Riders assembling on the Road beyond the foot of the hill.      'Yes,'  said  Strider,  whose keener sight left him  in no  doubt. 'The enemy is here!'      Hastily they crept away  and slipped down the north side of the hill to find their companions.      Sam and  Peregrin had not been  idle. They  had explored the small dell and the surrounding slopes. Not far away they  found a spring of clear water in the hillside, and near it footprints not  more than  a day or two old. In the dell itself they  found  recent traces of a fire, and  other  signs of a hasty camp. There were some fallen rocks on the edge of  the dell nearest to the  hill.  Behind  them  Sam  came upon  a  small store of  firewood neatly stacked.      'I wonder if old Gandalf has been here,' he said to Pippin. 'Whoever it was put this stuff here meant to come back it seems.'      Strider  was greatly interested in  these discoveries.  'I  wish I  had waited and explored the  ground  down here myself,' he said, hurrying off to
  356. the spring to examine the footprints.      'It is just as I feared,' he said, when he came back.  'Sam  and Pippin have trampled the soft ground, and the marks are spoilt or confused. Rangers have been  here lately. It  is  they who left the firewood behind. But there are also  several newer tracks  that were not made by Rangers. At least  one set was made, only a day or two ago, by  heavy boots. At least one. I cannot now be certain, but  I think  there were many booted feet.'  He  paused  and stood in anxious thought.      Each of the hobbits  saw in his mind a vision of the cloaked and booted Riders. If the horsemen had already  found  the dell, the sooner Strider led them  somewhere else  the better. Sam viewed  the hollow with great dislike, now that he had heard news of their  enemies on the  Road, only a few  miles away.      'Hadn't we better clear out quick, Mr.  Strider?' he asked impatiently. 'It  is getting late,  and  I  don't like this  hole: it makes my heart sink somehow.'      'Yes,  we certainly must decide what to do  at once,' answered Strider, looking up and considering the time and the weather. 'Well, Sam,' he said at last,  'I do not  like  this  place either; but  I  cannot think of anywhere better  that we could  reach before nightfall.  At least we are out of sight for the  moment, and if we moved we should be much more likely to be seen by spies.  All we could  do would be to go right out  of our way back north  on this side of the line of hills, where the land is all much the same as it is here. The  Road  is watched, but we should have to cross it, if we tried  to take cover  in the thickets away to the south. On the north side of the Road beyond the hills the country is bare and flat for miles.'      'Can the Riders see?' asked Merry. 'I mean, they seem  usually  to have used their noses rather than their eyes, smelling for us, if smelling is the right word, at least in the daylight. But you made us lie down flat when you saw them down below; and now you talk of being seen, if we move.'      'I was too careless  on the  hill-top,' answered  Strider. 'I  was very anxious to  find some  sign of Gandalf; but it was a mistake for three of us to go up and  stand  there  so long.  For the black horses  can see, and the Riders can use men and other creatures as  spies, as we found at Bree.  They themselves  do not see the  world of light as we  do,  but our  shapes  cast shadows in  their  minds, which only the  noon sun destroys; and in the dark they perceive many  signs and forms that are hidden from us:  then they  are
  357. most to be feared. And at all times  they smell the blood  of living things, desiring and hating it. Senses, too, there are other than sight or smell. We can feel their  presence - it troubled our hearts, as  soon as we came here, and before we saw them; they feel ours more keenly. Also,' he added, and his voice sank to a whisper, 'the Ring draws them.'      'Is there no escape then?' said Frodo, looking round wildly. 'If I move I shall be seen and hunted! If I stay, I shall draw them to me!'      Strider laid  his hand on his shoulder. 'There is still hope,' he said. 'You are not alone. Let us take  this wood that is set ready for the fire as a sign. There  is little  shelter or defence here,  but fire shall serve for both. Sauron can put fire to his evil uses, as he can  all things, but these Riders do  not love it, and  fear those who wield  it. Fire is our friend in the wilderness.'      'Maybe,'  muttered Sam.  'It  is also as good a way of saying "here  we are" as I can think of, bar shouting.'      Down in  the  lowest and most  sheltered corner of the dell  they lit a fire, and prepared a meal. The shades of  evening began to fall, and it grew cold.  They  were  suddenly  aware of great  hunger,  for they had not eaten anything since breakfast; but they dared not make more than a frugal supper. The  lands ahead were empty of all save birds and beasts, unfriendly  places deserted by all the races of the  world. Rangers passed  at times beyond the hills, but they were few and did not stay. Other wanderers were rare, and of evil sort: trolls might stray down at times  out of  the northern valleys of the Misty Mountains. Only on the Road  would travellers be found, most often dwarves, hurrying along on business of their  own, and with no help  and few words to spare for strangers.      'I don't see how our food can be  made  to  last,' said Frodo. 'We have been careful  enough in the last few days, and  this supper is no feast; but we have used  more than we ought,  if  we  have two weeks  still to go,  and perhaps more.'      'There is food in the wild,' said Strider; 'berry,  root, and herb; and I have  some skill as  a  hunter at need. You need not be afraid of starving before winter comes. But gathering and catching food is long and weary work, and  we need haste. So tighten your belts, and think with hope of the tables of Elrond's house!'      The  cold increased as darkness came  on. Peering out from the  edge of the dell they could see nothing but a grey land now  vanishing  quickly into
  358. shadow. The sky above had cleared again and was slowly filled with twinkling stars. Frodo and  his companions  huddled  round the fire, wrapped  in every garment and  blanket they possessed;  but Strider was  content with a single cloak, and sat a little apart, drawing thoughtfully at his pipe.      As night fell and the light of the fire began to shine out  brightly he began to  tell  them  tales  to keep their minds  from  fear. He  knew  many histories and legends  of long ago,  of Elves  and Men and the good and evil deeds of the Elder Days. They  wondered how  old he was,  and  where he  had learned all this lore.      'Tell us of Gil-galad,' said Merry suddenly, when he paused  at the end of a story of the Elf-Kingdoms. 'Do you  know any more  of that old lay that you spoke of?'      'I do indeed,' answered Strider. 'So also does Frodo,  for  it concerns us closely.' Merry  and Pippin looked at Frodo,  who  was  staring  into the fire.      'I know  only the little that Gandalf has  told me,' said Frodo slowly. 'Gil-galad was the last of the great Elf-kings of Middle-earth. Gil-galad is Starlight in their tongue. With Elendil, the Elf-friend, he went to the land of------'      'No!' said Strider  interrupting, 'I do not think that tale  should  be told now with  the servants of the Enemy  at hand. If we  win through to the house of Elrond, you may hear it there, told in full.'      'Then  tell  us  some other tale of  the old days,' begged Sam; 'a tale about  the Elves before the  fading time.  I would dearly  like to hear more about Elves; the dark seems to press round so close.'      'I will tell you the tale of Tin®viel,' said  Strider,  'in brief - for it  is a long tale  of which the end is  not known; and  there are none now, except  Elrond, that remember it aright as it was told of old.  It is a fair tale, though it is sad, as are all the tales of Middle-earth, and yet it may lift up your hearts.' He was silent for some  time, and then he began not to speak but to chant softly:      The leaves were long, the grass was green,      The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,      And in the glade a light was seen      Of stars in shadow shimmering.      Tin®viel was dancing there      To music of a pipe unseen,
  359.      And light of stars was in her hair,      And in her raiment glimmering.
  360.  
  361.      There Beren came from mountains cold,      And lost he wandered under leaves,      And where the Elven-river rolled      He walked alone and sorrowing.      He peered between the hemlock-leaves      And saw in wander flowers of gold      Upon her mantle and her sleeves,      And her hair like shadow following.
  362.  
  363.      Enchantment healed his weary feet      That over hills were doomed to roam;      And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,      And grasped at moonbeams glistening.      Through woven woods in Elvenhome      She tightly fled on dancing feet,      And left him lonely still to roam      In the silent forest listening.
  364.  
  365.      He heard there oft the flying sound      Of feet as light as linden-leaves,      Or music welling underground,      In hidden hollows quavering.      Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,      And one by one with sighing sound      Whispering fell the beechen leaves      In the wintry woodland wavering.
  366.  
  367.      He sought her ever, wandering far      Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,      By light of moon and ray of star      In frosty heavens shivering.      Her mantle glinted in the moon,      As on a hill-top high and far      She danced, and at her feet was strewn
  368.      A mist of silver quivering.
  369.  
  370.      When winter passed, she came again,      And her song released the sudden spring,      Like rising lark, and falling rain,      And melting water bubbling.      He saw the elven-flowers spring      About her feet, and healed again      He longed by her to dance and sing      Upon the grass untroubling.
  371.  
  372.      Again she fled, but swift he came.      Tin®viel! Tin®viel!      He called her by her elvish name;      And there she halted listening.      One moment stood she, and a spell      His voice laid on her: Beren came,      And doom fell on Tin®viel      That in his arms lay glistening.
  373.  
  374.      As Beren looked into her eyes      Within the shadows of her hair,      The trembling starlight of the skies      He saw there mirrored shimmering.      Tin®viel the elven-fair,      Immortal maiden elven-wise,      About him cast her shadowy hair      And arms like silver glimmering.
  375.  
  376.      Long was the way that fate them bore,      O'er stony mountains cold and grey,      Through halls of iron and darkling door,      And woods of nightshade morrowless.      The Sundering Seas between them lay,      And yet at last they met once more,      And long ago they passed away      In the forest singing sorrowless.
  377.      Strider sighed and paused before he spoke again.  'That is a song,'  he said, 'in the mode that  is called ann-thennath among the Elves, but is hard to render in our Common Speech, and this is but a rough echo of it. It tells of the meeting of Beren son  of  Barahir and  L®thien Tin®viel. Beren was  a mortal man,  but L®thien was the daughter of Thingol,  a King  of Elves upon Middle-earth when the world was young; and  she was the fairest  maiden that has ever been among all  the children of this world. As  the stars above the mists  of  the Northern  lands was her loveliness,  and  in her  face  was a shining light. In those days  the Great Enemy, of  whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant, dwelt  in Angband  in the North,  and the  Elves of the  West coming back to Middle-earth made  war upon him to regain the Silmarils which he had  stolen; and  the fathers of Men aided the Elves. But the  Enemy  was victorious  and Barahir  was slain,  and Beren escaping through great  peril came over the Mountains of Terror into the hidden Kingdom of Thingol in  the forest of Neldoreth.  There he beheld L®thien singing and dancing in a glade beside the enchanted  river Esgalduin; and  he named  her Tin®viel,  that is Nightingale in the language of old. Many sorrows befell them afterwards, and they  were parted long. Tin®viel rescued Beren from  the dungeons of Sauron, and together they passed through great dangers, and cast down even the Great Enemy  from  his  throne, and took  from  his  iron  crown one of the  three Silmarils, brightest of  all jewels, to  be  the  bride-price of L®thien  to Thingol her father. Yet  at the last  Beren  was slain by the Wolf that came from  the gates  of  Angband, and he died in  the arms of Tin®viel.  But she chose mortality, and to die from  the world,  so that  she might follow him; and it  is sung that they met again beyond the Sundering  Seas, and  after a brief time walking alive once more in the green woods, together they passed, long ago, beyond the confines of this  world. So it is that L®thien Tin®viel alone of the Elf-kindred has died indeed and left  the  world, and they have lost her  whom they most loved. But from her the lineage of the Elf-lords of old descended among  Men.  There live  still those of whom  L®thien  was the foremother,  and  it  is  said  that  her line shall  never fail.  Elrond of Rivendell is of that Kin. For of  Beren and L®thien  was born Dior Thingol's heir;  and of him Elwing  the White whom Edrendil wedded, he that sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the seas of heaven with the Silmaril upon  his brow.  And  of  Edrendil  came  the  Kings  of  N®menor,  that  is Westernesse.'      As Strider was speaking  they watched his strange eager face, dimly lit
  378. in the red glow of the wood-fire. His eyes shone, and his voice was rich and deep. Above him was a black starry  sky. Suddenly a pale light appeared over the crown  of Weathertop behind  him. The  waxing  moon  was climbing slowly above  the  hill that  overshadowed  them, and the  stars above the hill-top faded.      The  story ended. The hobbits moved and stretched. 'Look!' said  Merry. 'The Moon is rising: it must be getting late.'      The others looked up. Even as they did so, they saw on the  top of  the hill something small and dark  against  the  glimmer of the moonrise. It was perhaps only a large stone or jutting rock shown up by the pale light.      Sam  and Merry  got up and walked away from the fire. Frodo  and Pippin remained seated in silence.  Strider was watching the moonlight on  the hill intently.  All seemed quiet and still, but Frodo felt  a cold dread creeping over his heart,  now that Strider was  no longer speaking. He huddled closer to the fire. At that moment Sam came running back from the edge of the dell.      'I don't  know what it is,'  he  said, 'but  I suddenly felt afraid.  I durstn't  go  outside this dell  for any money;  I felt that  something  was creeping up the slope.'      'Did you see anything?' asked Frodo, springing to his feet.      'No, sir. I saw nothing, but I didn't stop to look.'      'I  saw something,' said Merry; 'or  I thought  I did -  away westwards where  the moonlight was  falling  on  the  flats  beyond the  shadow of the hill-tops, I thought there were two or three black shapes. They seemed to be moving this way.'      'Keep close to the  fire, with your faces outward!' cried Strider. 'Get some of the longer sticks ready in your hands!'      For a breathless  time  they sat there, silent  and  alert, with  their backs  turned to the  wood-fire, each gazing into the shadows that encircled them. Nothing happened. There was no sound or  movement in the night.  Frodo stirred,  feeling that he must break the silence:  he longed  to  shout  out aloud.      'Hush!' whispered Strider.  'What's  that?' gasped Pippin at  the  same moment.      Over the  lip of the little dell, on the side away  from the hill, they felt, rather  than saw, a shadow  rise,  one  shadow or  more than one. They
  379. strained their eyes, and the shadows  seemed to grow. Soon there could be no doubt:      three or four  tall black  figures  were standing  there  on the slope, looking down  on  them. So black were they that they seemed like black holes in the deep shade behind them. Frodo  thought that he heard  a faint hiss as of venomous breath  and felt a thin  piercing chill. Then the  shapes slowly advanced.      Terror overcame Pippin and Merry, and they threw themselves flat on the ground. Sam shrank to Frodo's side. Frodo was hardly less terrified than his companions; he  was quaking  as  if he was bitter cold,  but his  terror was swallowed  up in  a sudden temptation  to put on the Ring. The  desire to do this laid hold of him, and he could think of nothing else. He did not forget the Barrow,  nor  the  message  of  Gandalf;  but  something  seemed  to  be compelling  him to disregard  all warnings, and he longed to yield. Not with the hope of escape, or of doing anything, either good or bad: he simply felt that he must take the Ring and put  it on his finger. He could not speak. He felt Sam looking at him, as if  he knew  that  his  master was in some great trouble, but  he could not turn  towards him. He shut his eyes and struggled for a while; but  resistance became unbearable, and at  last he  slowly drew out the chain, and slipped the Ring on the forefinger of his left hand.      Immediately, though everything  else remained as before,  dim and dark, the shapes became  terribly clear. He was able to  see beneath  their  black wrappings. There were  five  tall  figures: two standing on the lip  of  the dell, three advancing. In their white faces burned  keen and merciless eyes; under their mantles were long grey robes;  upon  their grey hairs were helms of silver; in their haggard hands  were  swords of steel. Their eyes fell on him and pierced him, as they rushed towards him. Desperate, he  drew his own sword, and it seemed to him that it flickered red, as if it was a firebrand. Two of the figures  halted. The  third was taller than  the others: his hair was long and gleaming and  on his  helm was  a crown.  In one hand he held a long sword, and in the other a knife;  both the knife and the hand that held it glowed with a pale light. He sprang forward and bore down on Frodo.      At that moment Frodo threw himself forward on  the ground, and he heard himself crying aloud: O  Elbereth! Gilthoniel! At the same time he struck at the feet of his enemy. A shrill  cry rang  out in the night;  and he felt  a pain  like  a  dart  of  poisoned ice  pierce his left shoulder. Even  as he swooned he caught, as through a swirling mist,  a glimpse of Strider leaping
  380. out of the darkness with a flaming brand of wood in either hand. With a last effort Frodo,  dropping  his sword, slipped  the Ring from  his  finger  and closed his right hand tight upon it.
  381.  
  382.  
  383.  
  384. Chapter 12. Flight to the Ford
  385.  
  386.  
  387.      When Frodo came to himself he was still clutching the Ring desperately. He was lying by the fire, which was now piled high and burning brightly. His three companions were bending  over  him.  'What has happened? Where is  the pale  king?' he  asked wildly. They were too overjoyed to  hear him speak to answer  for  a  while; nor did they  understand  his question.  At length he gathered from  Sam that they had seen nothing  but the vague shadowy  shapes coming towards them.  Suddenly to his  horror Sam found  that his master had vanished; and at that moment a black shadow rushed past him, and he fell. He heard  Frodo's  voice, but it seemed to  come from a great distance, or from under the earth, crying out strange words. They saw nothing more, until they stumbled over the body of Frodo, lying as  if  dead,  face downwards  on the grass  with his sword  beneath  him. Strider ordered them to pick him up and lay  him near the fire, and then he disappeared. That was now  a  good while ago.      Sam plainly was beginning to have doubts again about Strider; but while they were talking he returned, appearing suddenly out  of the  shadows. They started, and Sam drew his sword and stood over Frodo; but Strider knelt down swiftly at his side.      'I  am not a Black  Rider,  Sam,' he said  gently, 'nor in league  with them. I  have been  trying to discover  something of  their movements; but I have  found nothing. I cannot  think  why  they have gone and do  not attack again. But there is no feeling of their presence anywhere at hand.'      When he heard what Frodo had  to tell, he became full  of concern,  and shook his head  and sighed. Then he ordered Pippin and Merry to heat as much water as they could in their small kettles, and to bathe the wound with  it. 'Keep the fire going well, and keep Frodo warm!' he said. Then he got up and walked  away, and called  Sam to him.  'I think I  understand  things better now,' he said in  a low voice.  'There  seem only to  have  been five of the enemy. Why they were not all here,  I  don't know;  but I  don't  think they expected to  be resisted.  They have drawn off for the  time being. But  not far,  I fear. They will come again another night, if we cannot escape.  They are  only  waiting,  because  they  think  that   their  purpose  is  almost accomplished, and that the  Ring  cannot fly much further. I fear, Sam, that
  388. they believe  your  master has a deadly  wound that will subdue him to their will. We  shall see!' Sam choked with tears. 'Don't  despair!' said Strider. 'You  must trust  me  now. Your  Frodo is made of sterner  stuff  than I had guessed, though Gandalf  hinted that it might prove so. He is not slain, and I think he will  resist the evil power of the wound longer  than his enemies expect. I will do all I can to help and heal him. Guard him well, while I am away!' He hurried off and disappeared again into the darkness.      Frodo  dozed, though the  pain  of his wound was slowly growing,  and a deadly  chill  was spreading  from  his  shoulder to  his arm  and side. His friends watched  over him, warming him,  and bathing  his  wound.  The night passed  slowly  and wearily.  Dawn was growing in the sky, and the  dell was filling with grey light, when Strider at last returned.      'Look!' he cried; and stooping he lifted from the  ground a black cloak that had lain there hidden by the darkness. A foot above the lower hem there was a slash. 'This was the stroke of Frodo's sword,' he said. 'The only hurt that it did to his enemy, I fear; for it is unharmed, but  all blades perish that pierce  that  dreadful  King.  More  deadly  to  him  was  the name  of Elbereth.'      'And  more  deadly to Frodo was this!' He stooped again and lifted up a long thin knife. There was a cold gleam in it. As Strider raised it they saw that near the end  its edge was notched and  the  point was broken  off. But even as he  held it up in the growing light, they gazed in astonishment, for the blade seemed to melt, and vanished like a smoke in the air, leaving only the hilt in  Strider's hand. 'Alas!' he  cried. 'It was this accursed  knife that gave the wound. Few now have the  skill in  healing to match  such evil weapons. But I will do what I can.'      He sat down on the  ground, and taking  the dagger-hilt laid it  on his knees, and he  sang over it a slow song in a strange tongue. Then setting it aside, he turned to Frodo  and in  a soft tone  spoke words the others could not catch.  From  the pouch at  his  belt he drew  out the  long leaves of a plant.      'These  leaves,' he said, 'I have  walked far to  find; for  this plant does not grow in the bare hills;  but in the thickets away south of the Road I found it in the dark by the scent of its leaves.' He crushed a leaf in his fingers,  and it gave out  a  sweet and pungent fragrance. 'It  is fortunate that  I could find it, for it is  a healing plant that the  Men of  the West brought to Middle-earth. Athelas they  named it,  and it grows  now sparsely
  389. and only near places where they dwelt or camped of old;  and it is not known in the  North, except to some of those who wander in the Wild. It  has great virtues, but over such a wound as this its healing powers may be small.'      He threw the leaves into boiling water and bathed Frodo's shoulder. The fragrance of the steam was refreshing, and those that were unhurt felt their minds calmed and cleared. The herb had  also some  power over the wound, for Frodo felt the pain  and also the  sense of  frozen cold lessen in his side; but the life did not return to his arm, and  he could not  raise or  use his hand.  He  bitterly  regretted his  foolishness, and reproached himself  for weakness of will; for he now perceived that in putting on the Ring he obeyed not his own desire but the commanding wish of his enemies. He wondered if he would  remain maimed for  life,  and how they would now  manage to  continue their journey. He fell too weak to stand.      The others were discussing this very question. They  quickly decided to leave Weathertop as soon as possible. 'I think now,' said Strider, 'that the enemy has been watching this place for some days. If Gandalf ever came here, then he  must have been forced to ride away, and  he will not return. In any case we are in great peril here after  dark, since the attack of last night, and we can hardly meet greater danger wherever we go.'      As  soon  as  the  daylight  was  full, they had some hurried food  and packed. It was impossible for Frodo  to  walk, so  they divided the  greater part of their baggage among the four of them, and put Frodo  on the pony. In the last few days the poor beast had improved wonderfully; it already seemed fatter and stronger, and had begun to show an affection for its new masters, especially for Sam. Bill Ferny's treatment must  have been very hard for the journey in the wild to seem so much better than its former life.      They started off in a southerly direction. This would mean crossing the Road,  but. it was the  quickest way to more wooded country. And they needed fuel; for Strider said  that Frodo must be kept warm,  especially at  night, while fire would be some protection  for them all. It  was also his  plan to shorten their journey by cutting across another great loop of the Road: east beyond Weathertop it changed its course and took a wide bend northwards.      They made  their  way slowly  and  cautiously  round the  south-western slopes  of the  hill, and came in a  little while to the  edge of the  Road. There was no sign of the Riders. But  even as they were hurrying across they heard far away two  cries: a cold voice calling and  a cold voice answering. Trembling they sprang forward, and made for the thickets that lay ahead. The
  390. land before them  sloped  away  southwards, but  it was  wild  and pathless; bushes and  stunted trees  grew in dense patches with wide barren  spaces in between.  The grass was scanty, coarse,  and grey;  and  the leaves  in  the thickets were faded and falling. It was  a cheerless land, and their journey was slow and gloomy. They spoke  little as they trudged along. Frodo's heart was grieved as he watched them walking beside him with their heads down, and their  backs bowed  under  their  burdens.  Even  Strider  seemed  tired and heavy-hearted.      Before the first day's march was over Frodo's pain began to grow again, but he did not speak of it for  a long time. Four  days passed,  without the ground or the scene changing much, except that behind them Weathertop slowly sank,  and  before  them the distant mountains loomed a  little nearer.  Yet since that far cry they had seen and heard no sign that the enemy had marked their  flight or followed them.  They dreaded the dark hours, and kept watch in pairs by night, expecting at any time to see black shapes stalking in the grey night, dimly lit by the cloud-veiled  moon; but they  saw nothing,  and heard no sound but the sigh of withered leaves and grass. Not once  did they feel the sense of present  evil that  had assailed them before the attack in the dell. It seemed too much to hope that the Riders had already  lost their trail again. Perhaps  they  were waiting  to  make  some ambush in  a narrow place?      At the end of  the fifth day the ground began once more  to rise slowly out of the wide  shallow valley into which  they had  descended. Strider now turned their course again north-eastwards, and on the sixth day they reached the top of a long slow-climbing slope, and saw far  ahead a huddle of wooded hills. Away below them they could see the Road sweeping round  the  feet  of the hills;  and  to  their  right  a  grey river  gleamed  pale in the  thin sunshine. In the  distance they glimpsed yet another river in a stony valley half-veiled in mist.      "I am  afraid we must  go back  to  the Road  here for  a while,'  said Strider.  'We have  now  come to  the  River Hoarwell,  that the Elves  call Mitheithel. It  flows down out  of the Ettenmoors, the troll-fells  north of Rivendell,  and joins  the Loudwater away in the  South.  Some  call  it the Greyflood after that. It is a great water before it finds the  Sea. There is no way over  it  below  its sources  in the Ettenmoors, except by  the  Last
  391. Bridge on which the Road crosses.'      'What is that other river we can see far away there?' asked Merry.      'That is Loudwater,  the Bruinen of Rivendell,'  answered Strider. 'The Road runs along the edge of  the hills for many miles from the Bridge to the Ford of Bruinen. But I have  not yet thought how  we shall cross that water. One river at a time! We shall be fortunate indeed if we do not find the Last Bridge held against us.'      Next day, early in  the morning, they came down again to the borders of the Road.  Sam  and  Strider  went  forward, but they found no  sign of  any travellers or riders. Here under the shadow of the hills there had been some rain. Strider judged that it had fallen two days before, and had washed away all footprints. No horseman had passed since then, as far as he could see.      They hurried along with all the speed they could make, and after a mile or two they saw the Last Bridge ahead, at the bottom of a short steep slope. They dreaded  to see black figures waiting there, but they saw none. Strider made them take cover  in a  thicket at  the side of the Road, while  he went forward to explore.      Before long he came hurrying back. 'I can see no sign of the enemy,' he said,  'and I wonder very much what that  means. But  I have found something very strange.'      He held out his hand, and showed a single pale-green jewel. 'I found it in  the  mud in  the  middle of the  Bridge,' he said. 'It  is  a beryl,  an elf-stone.  Whether it was set  there, or  let fall by chance, I cannot say; but  it brings  hope to  me. I will take it as a sign that we may  pass  the Bridge; but beyond that I dare not keep  to  the Road, without some  clearer token.'      At once they went on again. They crossed  the Bridge in safety, hearing no sound  but  the water  swirling  against its three great  arches. A  mile further on they came to a narrow ravine that led away northwards through the steep  lands  on  the left of the Road.  Here Strider turned aside, and soon they were lost in a sombre  country of dark trees winding among the feet  of sullen hills.      The hobbits were glad  to leave  the  cheerless lands and the  perilous Road behind them; but this new country seemed threatening and unfriendly. As they went forward the hills about them steadily rose. Here  and  there  upon heights  and ridges they caught glimpses of ancient walls  of stone, and the ruins of towers: they had an ominous look. Frodo,  who was  not walking, had
  392. time to gaze ahead and to think. He recalled Bilbo's account of his  journey and the  threatening towers on  the hills north of  the Road, in the country near the Troll's wood where his first serious adventure had  happened. Frodo guessed that they were  now in the  same  region, and wondered if by  chance they would pass near the spot.      'Who lives  in this land?'  he asked. 'And  who built these  towers? Is this troll-country?'      'No!' said Strider. 'Trolls do  not  build. No one lives in  this land. Men once dwelt  here, ages ago;  but  none remain  now. They  became an evil people, as legends  tell, for they fell under  the shadow of Angmar. But all were destroyed  in the war that  brought the North Kingdom to  its  end. But that is now so long ago that the hills  have forgotten them, though a shadow still lies on the land.'      'Where  did you learn  such  tales,  if  all  the  land  is  empty  and forgetful?' asked Peregrin. 'The  birds and beasts do not tell tales of that son.'      'The  heirs  of Elendil do not forget all  things past,'  said Strider; 'and  many more things than  I can tell are remembered in  Rivendell.' 'Have you often  been to Rivendell?' said  Frodo. 'I have,' said Strider. 'I dwelt there once, and still I return when I may.      There my heart is;  but  it is not my fate to sit in peace, even in the fair house of Elrond.'      The hills now began to shut them in. The Road behind held on its way to the River Bruinen, but both were  now hidden  from view. The travellers came into a long valley; narrow, deeply cloven, dark  and silent.  Trees with old and twisted roots hung over cliffs, and piled up behind into mounting slopes of pine-wood.      The hobbits grew very weary. They advanced slowly, for they had to pick their way through a pathless country, encumbered by fallen trees and tumbled rocks. As long as they could they avoided  climbing  for  Frodo's  sake, and because it was in fact difficult to find any way up out of the narrow dales. They had been two days in this country when the weather turned wet. The wind began  to blow steadily  out  of  the West and pour the water of the distant seas  on the  dark  heads of the hills in fine  drenching rain. By nightfall they  were all soaked,  and their camp was cheerless, for they could not get any  fire  to burn. The next  day the  hills rose still  higher  and steeper before  them, and  they were forced to  turn away  northwards out  of  their
  393. course. Strider seemed to  be getting anxious: they were nearly ten days out from Weathertop, and their stock of  provisions was beginning to run low. It went on raining.      That night they camped on  a stony shelf with a rock-wall  behind them, in which  there was a shallow cave,  a  mere scoop in the  cliff.  Frodo was restless. The  cold and wet had  made his wound more painful  than ever, and the ache and sense of deadly chill took  away all sleep.  He lay tossing and turning and listening fearfully to the stealthy night-noises: wind in chinks of  rock, water  dripping, a crack, the sudden rattling  fall of  a loosened stone. He felt that black shapes  were advancing to smother him; but when he sat up he saw nothing but  the back of  Strider  sitting hunched up, smoking his pipe, and watching.  He lay down again and passed into an uneasy  dream, in  which he  walked on the grass in his garden in the Shire,  but it seemed faint  and dim, less clear  than the  tall black shadows that  stood looking over the hedge.      In  the morning he  woke to  find that the rain had stopped. The clouds were still thick,  but they were breaking, and pale strips of  blue appeared between them.  The  wind was  shifting  again.  They  did  not start  early. Immediately after  their cold  and  comfortless  breakfast Strider  went off alone, telling the others to remain under the shelter of the cliff, until he came  back. He was going to climb up, if he could, and get a look at the lie of the land.      When  he returned he was not reassuring.  'We have come too  far to the north,' he said, 'and we must find  some way to  turn back southwards again. If we  keep on as we are going we shall get up into the Ettendales far north of  Rivendell.  That is  troll-country,  and  little known  to  me. We could perhaps find our way through and come round to Rivendell from the north; but it would take  too long,  for I  do not know the way, and our food would not last. So somehow or other we must find the Ford of Bruinen.'      The  rest of that day they  spent  scrambling over  rocky  ground. They found  a passage between  two  hills that  led them into  a  valley  running south-east, the  direction that they wished  to take; but towards the end of the day they found their road again barred by a ridge of high land; its dark edge  against  the  sky was  broken  into many bare points like teeth  of  a blunted saw. They had a choice between going back or climbing over it.      They decided to attempt the climb, but it proved very difficult. Before long Frodo was obliged to dismount and struggle along on foot. Even so  they
  394. often  despaired of  getting their pony up, or  indeed of finding a path for themselves, burdened as  they were. The light was nearly gone, and they were all exhausted, when at last they reached the top. They  had climbed on to  a narrow  saddle  between two  higher points, and the  land fell  steeply away again, only a short distance ahead. Frodo threw himself down, and lay on the ground shivering. His left arm was lifeless, and his side and shoulder  felt as if icy claws were  laid upon them.  The trees  and rocks about him seemed shadowy and dim.      'We  cannot go any further,' said  Merry to Strider. 'I am  afraid this has been too much for Frodo. I am dreadfully  anxious about him. What are we to do? Do you think they  will be able to cure him in Rivendell,  if we ever get there?'      'We shall see,'  answered Strider. 'There is nothing more that I can do in  the  wilderness;  and  it is chiefly because of  his wound that I am  so anxious to press on. But I agree that we can go no further tonight.'      'What is the matter with my  master?' asked Sam in a low voice, looking appealingly  at Strider.  'His  wound was small, and it is  already  closed. There's nothing to be seen but a cold white mark on his shoulder.'      'Frodo  has been  touched  by the weapons of  the Enemy,' said Strider, 'and there is some poison  or evil at work that is beyond my  skill to drive out. But do not give up hope, Sam!'      Night was cold up on the  high ridge. They lit a small fire  down under the gnarled roots of an old pine, that hung over a shallow pit: it looked as if stone had once been  quarried there. They sat  huddled together. The wind blew chill through the pass, and they heard the tree-tops lower down moaning and  sighing.  Frodo lay half in a dream, imagining that endless dark  wings were sweeping by above him, and that on the wings rode pursuers that  sought him in all the hollows of the hills.      The  morning dawned bright  and fair; the air  was clean, and the light pale and clear  in a rain-washed sky. Their hearts were encouraged, but (hey longed for the  sun to warm their cold stiff limbs. As soon as it was light, Strider took Merry  with him and went to survey the country from  the height to the east of the pass. The sun had risen and was shining  brightly when he returned  with more comforting news. They were now going more or less in the right direction. If they went on, down the  further side of the ridge,  they would have the Mountains on their left. Some way  ahead Strider had caught a glimpse  of the Loudwater again, and he knew that, though it was hidden from
  395. view, the Road to the  Ford was not far from the River  and  lay on the side nearest to them.      'We must make for  the  Road again,' he said. 'We cannot hope to find a path through these hills. Whatever danger may beset it, the Road is our only way to the Ford.'      As soon as they had eaten they set out again. They climbed  slowly down the southern side  of the ridge; but the way  was much easier  than they had expected, for the slope  was  far less steep on  this side, and before  long Frodo was able  to  ride again. Bill Ferny's poor old pony was developing an unexpected talent  for picking out a path, and for sparing its rider as many jolts as possible. The  spirits of the  party  rose  again. Even  Frodo felt better in  the  morning  light, but every  now  and again  a mist seemed  to obscure his sight, and he passed his hands over his eyes.      Pippin was a little  ahead of the  others. Suddenly he turned round and called to them. 'There is a path here!' he cried.      When they came up with him, they saw that he had made no mistake:      there were clearly  the beginnings of  a  path, that climbed  with many windings  out of  the woods  below and faded away on the hill-top behind. In places it was  now faint and overgrown,  or choked  with fallen  stones  and trees; but at one time it seemed to have been much used.  It was a path made by strong arms  and heavy feet. Here and  there old trees  had  been cut  or broken down, and large rocks cloven or heaved aside to make a way.      They followed the track for some while, for it offered much the easiest way down, but they went cautiously, and their anxiety increased as they came into the dark  woods, and the path grew plainer and broader. Suddenly coming out  of a belt of fir-trees  it ran steeply down a slope, and turned sharply to the left round the comer  of a rocky shoulder of the hill. When they came to the comer they  looked round and  saw  that the path ran on  over a level strip  under the face of a low  cliff overhung with trees. In the stony wall there was a door hanging crookedly ajar upon one great hinge.      Outside the door they all  halted. There was  a  cave  or  rock-chamber behind, but  in the gloom  inside nothing  could be  seen. Strider, Sam, and Merry  pushing with all  their  strength managed  to open  the door a little wider, and then Strider  and Merry  went in. They did not go far, for on the floor lay many old bones, and nothing else was to be seen  near the entrance except some great empty jars and broken pots.      'Surely  this  is a troll-hole, if ever there  was one!'  said  Pippin.
  396. 'Come out, you two, and let us get away. Now we know  who made the path and we had better get off it quick.'      'There  is  no  need, I think,'  said  Strider,  coining  out.  'It  is certainly a troll-hole,  but it seems  to have  been  long forsaken. I don't think we need be afraid. But let us go on down warily, and we shall see.'      The  path  went on again from the door, and turning to the right  again across the level space plunged down a thick wooded slope. Pippin, not liking to show Strider that he was still afraid, went on ahead  with Merry. Sam and Strider came behind, one on each side of  Frodo's pony, for the path was now broad enough for four or five hobbits to walk abreast. But they had not gone very far  before Pippin came  running back,  followed  by Merry.  They  both looked terrified.      'There are trolls!' Pippin panted. 'Down in a clearing in the woods not far below. We  got a sight of them  through  the tree-trunks.  They are very large!'      'We  will come and  look at them,' said  Strider,  picking  up a stick. Frodo said nothing, but Sam looked scared.      The  sun was now  high, and  it  shone  down through the  half-stripped branches of  the  trees, and lit the clearing with bright patches of  light. They halted  suddenly  on the  edge,  and  peered  through the  tree-trunks, holding their breath. There stood  the trolls: three large  trolls.  One was stooping, and the other two stood staring at him.      Strider walked forward unconcernedly. 'Get up, old stone!' he said, and broke his stick upon the stooping troll.      Nothing happened. There  was a  gasp  of astonishment from the hobbits, and then even Frodo laughed. 'Well!' he said.  'We are forgetting our family history!  These  must  be the  very  three  that  were  caught  by  Gandalf, quarrelling over the right way to cook thirteen dwarves and one hobbit.'      'I had no  idea we were  anywhere near the place!' said Pippin. He knew the  story well. Bilbo  and Frodo had told it often; but as a matter of fact he had  never more than half believed  it. Even now he  looked  at the stone trolls with suspicion, wondering if some magic might not suddenly bring them to life again.      'You are forgetting not only your family history, but all you ever knew about  trolls,' said Strider. 'It is broad daylight with  a bright sun,  and yet you come back trying to scare me with a tale  of live trolls waiting for
  397. us in this glade! In any case you might have noticed that one of them has an old bird's nest behind his ear. That would be a most unusual ornament  for a live troll!'      They  all laughed.  Frodo felt  his spirits  reviving: the reminder  of Bilbo's  first successful adventure  was  heartening. The sun, too, was warm and comforting, and the mist before his  eyes seemed to be lifting a little. They rested for some time in the glade,  and took  their  mid-day meal right under the shadow of the trolls' large legs.      'Won't somebody give  us  a bit of a song, while the sun is high?' said Merry, when they had finished. 'We haven't had a song or a tale for days.'      'Not since  Weathertop,' said Frodo. The  others looked at him.  'Don't worry about me!' he added. 'I  feel much  better, but I  don't think I could sing. Perhaps Sam could dig something out of his memory.'      'Come on, Sam!' said Merry. 'There's more  stored in your head than you let on about.'      'I don't know about that,' said Sam. 'But how would this suit? It ain't what I call proper poetry, if you understand me: just a bit of nonsense. But these old images here  brought it to my mind.' Standing  up,  with his hands behind his back, as if he was at school, he began to sing to an old tune.      Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,      And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;      For many a year he had gnawed it near,      For meat was hard to come by.      Done by! Gum by!      In a case in the hills he dwelt alone,      And meat was hard to come by.
  398.  
  399.      Up came Tom with his big boots on.      Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?      For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim,      As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.      Caveyard! Paveyard!      This many a year has Tim been gone,      And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard.'
  400.  
  401.      'My lad,' said Troll, 'this bone I stole.      But what be bones that lie in a hole?
  402.      Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,      Afore I found his shinbone.      Tinbone! Thinbone!      He can spare a share for a poor old troll,      For he don't need his shinbone.'
  403.  
  404.      Said Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' thee      Without axin' leave should go makin' free      With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;      So hand the old bone over!      Rover! Trover!      Though dead he be, it belongs to he;      So hand the old bone over!'
  405.  
  406.      'For a couple o' pins,' says Troll, and grins,      'I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.      A bit o' fresh meal will go down sweet!      I'll try my teeth on thee now.      Hee now! See now!      I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins;      I've a mind to dine on thee now.'
  407.  
  408.      But just as he thought his dinner was caught,      He found his hands had hold of naught.      Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind      And gave him the boot to larn him.      Warn him! Darn him!      A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,      Would be the way to larn him.
  409.  
  410.      But harder than stone is the flesh and bone      Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.      As well set your boot to the mountain's root,      For the seat of a troll don't feel it.      Peel it! Heal it!      Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,      And he knew his toes could feel it.
  411.  
  412.       Tom's leg is game, since home he came,      And his bootless foot is lasting lame;      But Troll don't care, and he's still there      With the bone he boned from its owner.      Doner! Boner!      Troll's old seat is still the same,      And the bone he boned from its owner!      'Well, that's a warning to  us all!' laughed Merry. 'It  is as well you used a stick, and not your hand, Strider!'      'Where did you come  by  that, Sam?' asked Pippin.  'I've  never  heard those words before.'      Sam  muttered  something  inaudible. 'It's  out of  his  own  head,  of course,'  said Frodo. 'I am learning a lot about Sam Gamgee on this journey. First he was a conspirator, now he's a  jester.  He'll end up  by becoming a wizard - or a warrior!'      'I hope not,' said Sam. 'I don't want to be neither!'      In  the afternoon  they went  on  down  the  woods. They were  probably following the very track  that Gandalf, Bilbo, and the dwarves had used many years before.  After a  few miles they came  out on the top  of a high  bank above the  Road. At this point  the Road had left the Hoarwell far behind in its narrow valley, and now clung close to the feet of the hills, rolling and winding eastward among woods and heather-covered slopes towards the Ford and the  Mountains.  Not far  down the bank Strider pointed out a  stone in  the grass.  On  it roughly  cut  and  now  much weathered  could  still be  seen dwarf-runes and secret marks.      'There!' said  Merry.  'That  must be the stone  that marked  the place where the  trolls' gold  was  hidden.  How much is  left of Bilbo's share, I wonder, Frodo?'      Frodo looked at the stone,  and wished that  Bilbo had brought home  no treasure more perilous, nor  less easy to pan with. 'None  at all,' he said. 'Bilbo gave it all away. He told me he did not feel it was really his, as it came from robbers.'      The Road lay quiet under the long  shadows of early  evening. There was no sign of any  other  travellers  to be  seen. As  there  was now no  other possible course for them to  take,  they climbed down  the bank, and turning
  413. left went off  as  fast as they could.  Soon a shoulder of the hills cut off the  light  of the fast westering sun. A cold wind flowed down to  meet them from the mountains ahead.      They were beginning  to look out  for a place  off the Road, where they could camp for the night, when they heard a sound that  brought  sudden fear back  into their hearts: the  noise of  hoofs behind them. They looked back, but they could not see far because of  the many windings and rollings of the Road. As quickly as they could they scrambled off the beaten way and up into the deep heather and bilberry brushwood on the slopes above, until they came to a small patch of thick-growing hazels.  As they peered out from among the bushes, they could see the Road, faint and  grey in  the failing light, some thirty feel  below them. The sound of hoofs  drew  nearer.  They were  going fast, with a light clippety-clippely-clip. Then faintly,  as if it was blown away from  them by the breeze,  they seemed  to catch a dim  ringing, as  of small bells tinkling.      'That does not sound like a Black Rider's horse!' said Frodo, listening intently. The other  hobbits agreed hopefully that it did not,  but they all remained  full of suspicion.  They had been in  fear of pursuit for  so long that any sound from  behind seemed ominous and  unfriendly. But Strider  was now leaning forward, stooped to the  ground, with a  hand to  his ear, and a look of joy on his face.      The light faded, and  the leaves on the bushes  rustled softly. Clearer and nearer  now the bells jingled, and clippety-clip came the quick trotting feet. Suddenly into view below came a white  horse, gleaming in the shadows, running swiftly. In the dusk its  headstall flickered and flashed,  as if it were studded with gems  like living stars. The rider's cloak streamed behind him, and his hood was thrown back; his golden hair flowed shimmering in  the wind of his  speed. To  Frodo it  appeared  that a  white  light was shining through the form and raiment of the rider, as if through a thin veil.      Strider sprang from hiding and  dashed  down  towards the Road, leaping with a cry through the heather; but even before he  had moved or called, the rider  had  reined in  his horse and halted, looking  up towards the thicket where  they stood. When he saw  Strider, he dismounted and  ran to meet  him calling out: Ai na vedui D®nadan! Mae govannen! His speech and clear ringing voice left no doubt in their hearts:  the rider  was  of the Elven-folk.  No others that dwelt in the wide  world had voices so  fair  to hear. But there
  414. seemed to be  a note of haste or fear  in his call, and they saw that he was now speaking quickly and urgently to Strider.      Soon Strider  beckoned  to them,  and  the hobbits left  the bushes and hurried  down  to the Road. 'This is  Glorfindel, who dwells in the house of Elrond,' said Strider.      'Hail, and well met  at last!' said the Elf-lord to Frodo. 'I  was sent from  Rivendell to look  for you. We feared that you were in danger upon the road.'      'Then Gandalf has reached Rivendell?' cried Frodo joyfully.      'No.  He had not when I departed; but that was nine days ago,' answered Glorfindel.  'Elrond received news that  troubled him.  Some of my  kindred, journeying  in  your land  beyond the  Baranduin,* learned  that things were amiss, and sent  messages as swiftly as they could. They  said that the Nine were abroad,  and  that  you  were  astray bearing a  great  burden  without guidance, for Gandalf had not returned. There are few even in Rivendell that can ride openly  against  the Nine; but such as there were, Elrond  sent out north,  west, and south.  It was thought  that you  might  turn far aside to avoid pursuit, and become lost in the Wilderness.      'It  was  my  lot  to  take the Road,  and  I  came to  the  Bridge  of Mitheithel, and  left a  token  there, nigh  on seven days ago. Three of the servants of  Sauron were upon the  Bridge, but  they withdrew  and I pursued them westward. I came also  upon two others, but they turned away southward. Since then I have  searched  for your  trail. Two days  ago I found  it, and followed it over the Bridge; and today I marked where you descended from the hills again. But come! There is no time for further news. Since you are here we must  risk the peril of  the Road and go. There  are five behind us,  and when  they find your trail upon the Road  they will  ride after us  like the wind.  And they are not all. Where the  other four may be, I  do not know. I fear that we may find the Ford is already held against us.'      While Glorfindel was speaking  the  shades of evening  deepened.  Frodo felt a great weariness come over him. Ever  since the sun began to  sink the mist before his eyes had  darkened,  and he  felt  that a  shadow was coming between him and the faces of his friends. Now pain assailed him, and he felt cold. He swayed, clutching at Sam's arm.      'My master  is  sick and  wounded,' said Sam angrily. 'He  can't go  on riding after nightfall. He needs rest.'      Glorfindel caught Frodo as he sank to the ground, and taking him gently
  415. in his arms he looked in his face with grave anxiety.      Briefly Strider told of the attack  on their camp under Weathertop, and of  the deadly knife. He drew out the hilt, which he had kept, and handed it to the Elf. Glorfindel shuddered as he  took  it, but he looked  intently at it.      'There  are evil things written  on  this hilt,' he said; 'though maybe your  eyes  cannot see  them.  Keep it, Aragorn,  till we reach the house of Elrond! But be wary, and handle it as little as you may! Alas! the wounds of this weapon are beyond my skill to heal. I will do what I can -  but all the more do I urge you now to go on without rest.'      He searched the  wound on Frodo's shoulder with  his  fingers, and  his face grew graver, as  if what he learned disquieted  him. But Frodo felt the chill lessen in  his  side  and arm;  a little  warmth crept  down from  his shoulder to his hand, and the pain grew easier. The  dusk of evening  seemed to grow lighter  about him, as if  a cloud  had been  withdrawn.  He saw his friends'  faces more clearly  again, and a  measure of new hope and strength returned.      'You  shall  ride my  horse,'  said  Glorfindel.  'I will  shorten  the stirrups  up to the saddle-skins, and  you must sit as tight as you can. But you need not fear: my horse  will not let any rider  fall that I command him to bear. His pace is light and smooth;  and if  danger presses  too near, he will  bear  you away with a  speed that even  the black steeds of  the enemy cannot rival.'      'No, he will not!' said  Frodo. 'I  shall  not ride him, if I am to  be carried off  to  Rivendell  or anywhere else, leaving  my friends behind  in danger.'      Glorfindel smiled. 'I doubt very much,' he said, 'if your friends would be  in danger if you were  not  with them! The pursuit  would follow you and leave  us in  peace, I think. It is you, Frodo, and that which you bear that brings us all in peril.'      To that Frodo had no answer, and he was persuaded to mount Glorfindel's white  horse.  The pony  was laden instead with a great part  of the others' burdens, so that they  now marched lighter, and  for a time made good speed; but the hobbits  began  to find it hard to keep up  with the swift  tireless feet of the Elf.  On he led them, into the  mouth of darkness,  and still on under the deep clouded night. There was neither star nor moon. Not until the grey of dawn did he allow them to halt. Pippin, Merry, and Sam were  by that
  416. time nearly asleep on their stumbling legs; and  even Strider seemed  by the sag of his shoulders to be weary. Frodo sat upon the horse in a dark dream.      They  cast  themselves  down  in  the  heather  a  few  yards  from the road-side,  and  fell asleep immediately. They seemed hardly to  have closed their eyes when Glorfindel, who  had set himself to watch  while they slept, awoke  them again.  The sun had  now climbed far into the  morning, and  the clouds and mists of the night were gone.      'Drink  this!'  said  Glorfindel  to  them, pouring for  each in turn a little liquor from his silver-studded flask  of leather.  It  was  clear  as spring  water and  had no taste, and it did not feel either  cool or warm in the mouth; but  strength  and vigour seemed to flow into all their limbs  as they  drank  it. Eaten after that draught the stale  bread  and dried  fruit (which was now all that they had left) seemed to satisfy their hunger better than many a good breakfast in the Shire had done.      They had rested rather less than five hours when they  took to the Road again. Glorfindel  still  urged them  on, and  only allowed two brief  halts during the day's  march. In this way they covered almost twenty miles before nightfall, and  came  to  a  point where the Road bent  right  and  ran down towards the  bottom of the valley,  now making  straight for the Bruinen. So far there had been no sign or sound of pursuit that the hobbits could see or hear; but often  Glorfindel would  halt and  listen  for  a moment, if  they lagged behind,  and a look of anxiety  clouded  his face. Once or  twice  he spoke to Strider in the elf-tongue.      But  however  anxious  their  guides might be,  it  was plain  that the hobbits could go no further that night. They were stumbling along dizzy with weariness, and unable to think of anything but their feet and legs.  Frodo's pain had redoubled, and during the day things about him faded to shadows  of ghostly grey.  He almost welcomed the coming of  night,  for  then the world seemed less pale and empty.      The  hobbits  were still  weary,  when  they  set out  again early next morning. There were many miles yet to go between them and the Ford, and they hobbled forward at the best pace they could manage.      'Our  peril  will  be  greatest just  ere  we  reach the  river,'  said Glorfindel; 'for my heart warns me that the pursuit is now swift behind  us, and other danger may be waiting by the Ford.'      The  Road  was still running steadily downhill,  and there  was now  in
  417. places much  grass  at either side, in which  the  hobbits walked when  they could, to ease  their tired feet. In the late afternoon they came to a place where the  Road went  suddenly under the dark shadow of tall pine-trees, and then plunged into a deep cutting with steep moist walls of red stone. Echoes ran  along as they hurried  forward; and there seemed to  be a sound of many footfalls following their own.  All at once, as if through a  gate of light, the Road ran  out again from the end of the tunnel into  the open.  There at the bottom  of a sharp incline  they saw before  them a long  flat mile, and beyond that  the  Ford of Rivendell. On  the  further side was a steep brown bank,  threaded  by  a  winding  path;  and behind  that the tall  mountains climbed, shoulder above shoulder, and peak beyond peak, into the fading sky.      There was still an  echo as  of following feet  in  the cutting  behind them;  a  rushing noise as  if  a wind were  rising and pouring  through the branches of the  pines. One moment Glorfindel turned  and  listened, then he sprang forward with a loud cry.      'Fly!' he called. 'Fly! The enemy is upon us!'      The white  horse  leaped  forward.  The  hobbits ran  down  the  slope. Glorfindel and  Strider followed  as  rear-guard.  They were only  half  way across the flat, when suddenly there was a noise of horses galloping. Out of the gate in the  trees that they had just left rode a Black Rider. He reined his horse  in, and halted,  swaying in his saddle. Another followed him, and then another; then again two more.      'Ride forward! Ride!' cried Glorfindel to Frodo.      He did not obey at  once, for a strange reluctance seized him. Checking the horse to  a  walk,  he turned and looked  back. The Riders seemed to sit upon  their  great steeds  like  threatening  statues  upon a hill, dark and solid, while all the woods and land about them  receded as  if into a  mist. Suddenly he knew  in  his heart that they were  silently commanding  him  to wait. Then at  once  fear  and hatred awoke in him. His hand left the bridle and gripped the hilt of his sword, and with a red flash he drew it.      'Ride on! Ride on!' cried Glorfindel, and then loud and clear he called to the horse in the elf-tongue: noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth!      At once the  white horse sprang away  and  sped like the wind along the last lap of  the Road. At the same moment the  black horses leaped  down the hill in pursuit, and from  the Riders came a terrible cry, such as Frodo had heard filling  the woods with  horror in the Eastfarthing  far away.  It was answered; and to the dismay of Frodo and his friends  out from the trees and
  418. rocks  away  on the left four other  Riders came flying.  Two  rode  towards Frodo: two  galloped madly towards  the Ford  to  cut  off  his escape. They seemed to him to run like the wind and to grow swiftly larger and darker, as their courses converged with his.      Frodo looked  back for  a moment over  his shoulder. He could no longer see  his friends. The Riders  behind  were  falling  back:  even their great steeds  were no match  in  speed for the  white elf-horse of  Glorfindel. He looked forward again, and hope faded. There seemed no chance of reaching the Ford before he  was cut off by  the others that had lain in ambush. He could see them clearly now: they appeared to have cast aside their hoods and black cloaks, and they were robed in  white and  grey. Swords were  naked in their pale hands; helms were on their heads. Their cold eyes  glittered,  and they called to him with fell voices.      Fear now filled all Frodo's mind. He thought no longer of his sword. No cry came from him. He shut his eyes  and clung to the horse's mane. The wind whistled in his ears, and the bells upon the harness rang wild and shrill. A breath of deadly cold pierced him like a spear, as with a last spurt, like a flash of  white fire, the  elf-horse  speeding as  if on wings, passed right before the face of the foremost Rider.      Frodo heard  the splash of water. It foamed about his feet. He felt the quick heave and surge as the horse left the river and struggled up the stony path. He was climbing the steep bank. He was across the Ford.      But the pursuers were close behind. At  the  top of  the bank the horse halted and turned  about neighing  fiercely. There were  Nine  Riders at the water's edge below, and Frodo's spirit quailed before  the  threat  of their uplifted faces. He knew of nothing that would  prevent them from crossing as easily as he had done; and he felt that it was useless to try to escape over the long uncertain path from the Ford to the edge  of Rivendell, if once the Riders crossed. In any case he felt that  he was commanded urgently to halt. Hatred again stirred in him, but he had no longer the strength to refuse.      Suddenly the foremost  Rider  spurred  his horse forward. It checked at the water and  reared  up.  With  a  great  effort  Frodo  sat  upright  and brandished his sword.      'Go back!' he cried. 'Go  back to  the Land of Mordor, and follow me no more! '  His voice sounded  thin and shrill  in his  own  ears.  The  Riders halted, but Frodo had not  the power of Bombadil. His enemies laughed at him with a harsh and chilling laughter. 'Come back! Come back!' they called. 'To
  419. Mordor we will take you!'      'Go back!' he whispered.      'The Ring! The  Ring!'  they cried with  deadly voices; and immediately their leader urged his horse forward into the water, followed closely by two others.      'By Elbereth  and L®thien  the Fair,' said Frodo  with  a last  effort, lifting up his sword, 'you shall have neither the Ring nor me!'      Then the leader, who was now half across the Ford, stood up menacing in his  stirrups, and raised up his hand.  Frodo was stricken dumb. He felt his tongue  cleave to  his mouth,  and  his heart labouring. His sword broke and fell out of his shaking hand. The elf-horse reared and snorted. The foremost of the black horses had almost set foot upon the shore.      At that moment there  came a roaring and  a rushing: a  noise  of  loud waters rolling many stones. Dimly  Frodo saw the river below him  rise,  and down along its course there  came a  plumed cavalry of  waves.  White flames seemed to Frodo to  flicker on their crests  and he half fancied that he saw amid the water white riders upon white horses with frothing manes. The three Riders  that  were still in  the midst of  the  Ford were  overwhelmed: they disappeared, buried suddenly under angry  foam.  Those that were behind drew back in dismay.      With his  last failing senses Frodo  heard cries,  and it seemed to him that he saw, beyond the Riders that hesitated on the shore, a shining figure of white light;  and behind it ran small shadowy forms  waving flames,  that flared red in the grey mist that was falling over the world.      The  black  horses were  filled  with madness, and leaping  forward  in terror  they bore their riders  into the rushing flood. Their piercing cries were drowned in the roaring of the river as it carried them away. Then Frodo felt himself  falling,  and  the  roaring and  confusion seemed  to rise and engulf him together with his enemies. He heard and saw no more.
  420.  
  421. * BOOK II *  
  422.  
  423.  
  424. Chapter 1. Many Meetings
  425.  
  426.  
  427.      Frodo woke and found himself lying in bed. At first he thought that  he had slept late, after a long unpleasant dream that still hovered on the edge of memory. Or  perhaps he  had been ill? But  the ceiling looked strange; it was flat, and it had dark beams richly carved. He lay  a little while longer looking at patches of sunlight on the wall, and listening to the  sound of a waterfall.      `Where am  I, and what is the time?' he said aloud to the  ceiling. 'In the  House of Elrond, and it is ten o'clock in  the morning.' said  a voice. `It is the morning of October the twenty-fourth, if you want to know.'      `Gandalf!'  cried  Frodo, sitting up. There was the old wizard, sitting in a chair by the open window.      `Yes,' he said, `I am here.  And you  are lucky  to be here, too, after all the absurd  things you  have done since  you left home.' Frodo lay  down again. He felt too comfortable and peaceful to argue, and in any case he did not think he would get the better of  an argument.  He  was fully awake now, and  the memory of  his  journey  was returning: the  disastrous `short cut' through the Old Forest the `accident' at The Prancing Pony;  and his madness in putting  on the Ring  in the dell under Weathertop. While he was thinking of all these  things and trying  in  vain to  bring  his memory down to  his arriving  in  Rivendell, there  was a long  silence, broken only by the soft puffs of Gandalf's pipe, as he blew white smoke-rings out of the window.      'Where's Sam?' Frodo asked at length. 'And are the others all right?'      'Yes, they are  all  safe  and sound,' answered Gandalf.  `Sam was here until I sent him off to get some rest, about half an hour ago.'      `What happened at the Ford?' said Frodo. `It all seemed so dim somehow; and it still does.'      'Yes,  it  would.  You were beginning to fade,' answered  Gandalf. 'The wound was overcoming you at last. A few more hours and you  would have  been beyond  our aid.  But you have some strength in you, my dear  hobbit! As you showed in the  Barrow. That was touch and  go: perhaps  the  most  dangerous
  428. moment of all. I wish you could have held out at Weathertop.'      'You seem to know a great deal already,' said Frodo. `I have not spoken to the others about the Barrow. At first it was too horrible; and afterwards there were other things to think about. How do you know about it?'      'You have talked long  in your sleep, Frodo,' said Gandalf gently, 'and it  has not been hard  for me to  read  your mind and memory. Do not  worry! Though I said  "absurd" just now, I did not mean it. I think well of you-and of the others. It is  no small  feat to have come so far,  and  through such dangers, still bearing the Ring.'      'We should  never  have done it  without Strider,' said Frodo. `But  we needed you. I did not know what to do without you.'      'I was delayed,'  said Gandalf, `and that  nearly proved our  ruin. And yet I am not sure; it may have been better so.'      'I wish you would tell me what happened!'      'All in good time! You are not supposed to talk or worry about anything today, by Elrond's orders.'      `But  talking would stop me thinking and wondering,  which are quite as tiring,' said Frodo.  'I am wide awake  now, and  I remember so many  things that want explaining. Why  were you delayed?  You  ought to tell me that  at least.'      'You will soon hear all you wish to know,' said Gandalf. 'We shall have a Council, as soon as you are  well enough. At the  moment  I will only  say that I was held captive.'      'You?' cried Frodo.      'Yes, I, Gandalf the Grey,'  said the wizard solemnly.  'There are many powers  in  the world,  for good  or for evil. Some are  greater  than I am. Against  some  I  have not  yet been measured. But my  time  is  coming. The Morgul-lord and his Black Riders have come forth. War is preparing!'      `Then you knew of the Riders already-before I met them?'      'Yes, I knew of them. Indeed I spoke of them once to you; for the Black Riders are the Ringwraiths, the Nine Servants of the Lord of the Rings.  But I did not know  that they had arisen again or I should have fled with you at once. I heard news  of them only after  I left you in  June; but that  story must wait. For the moment we have been saved from disaster, by Aragorn.'      'Yes,'  said Frodo, `it was Strider that saved  us. Yet I was afraid of him at first. Sam never quite trusted him. I think, not at any rate until we met Glorfindel.'
  429.      Gandalf smiled. `I have heard all about  Sam,' he said. 'He has no more doubts now.'      'I am glad,' said Frodo. 'For I have become very fond of Strider. Well, fond is not the right word.  I mean he is dear to me; though he  is strange, and grim  at times. In fact, he reminds  me often of you. I didn't know that any of the Big People were like that.  I thought, well, that  they were just big, and rather stupid: kind and stupid like Butterbur; or stupid and wicked like  Bill Ferny. But then we don't know much about Men in the Shire, except perhaps the Breelanders.'      `You  don't know  much  even  about them, if you  think old Barliman is stupid,' said Gandalf. 'He is wise enough on his  own ground. He thinks less than  he talks, and slower; yet he can see through a brick wall  in time (as they say in Bree). But there are few left in  Middle-earth  like Aragorn son of Arathorn. The race of the Kings from over the Sea is nearly at an end. It may be that this War of the Ring will be their last adventure.'      'Do  you  really  mean that  Strider is one  of the people of  the  old Kings?' said Frodo in wonder.  `I thought  they had all vanished long ago. I thought he was only a Ranger.'      'Only a Ranger!' cried Gandalf. `My dear Frodo,  that  is just what the Rangers are: the last  remnant in the North  of the great people, the Men of the  West.  They have helped  me  before; and I shall need their help in the days  to come;  for we  have reached Rivendell, but the Ring is  not yet  at rest.'      'I suppose not,' said Frodo. 'But  so far my  only thought has been  to get here; and  I  hope I  shan't have to go any further. It is very pleasant just to rest. I have had a month of exile and adventure, and I find that has been as much as I want.'      He fell silent and shut his eyes. After a while he spoke again. 'I have been reckoning,' he said, `and I can't bring  the  total up  to October  the twenty-fourth. It ought to  be  the  twenty-first. We  must have reached the Ford by the twentieth.'      'You have talked and reckoned more than is good for you,' said Gandalf. `How do the side and shoulder feel now?'      'I don't know.' Frodo  answered. 'They don't feel at all: which  is  an improvement, but'--he made  an  effort--'I can move my  arm again a  little. Yes, it is coming back to life. It is not cold,' he added, touching his left hand with his right.
  430.      `Good!'  said  Gandalf.  `It is  mending  fast. You will soon be  sound again. Elrond has cured you: he has tended you for days, ever since you were brought in.'      'Days?' said Frodo.      `Well, four nights and three days,  to be  exact. The Elves brought you from this where you lost  count.  We have been terribly anxious, and Sam has hardly left  your  side, day or night, except to run  messages. Elrond is  a master of healing, but the weapons of  our Enemy are deadly. To tell you the truth, I had very little hope; for  I suspected that there was some fragment of the blade still in the closed wound. But it could not be found until last night.  Then Elrond  removed a  splinter. It  was deeply  buried. and it was working inwards.'      Frodo shuddered, remembering the cruel knife  with notched  blade  that had vanished in Strider's  hands. `Don't be alarmed!' said Gandalf.  `It  is gone  now.  It  has  been  melted.  And  it  seems  that  Hobbits fade  very reluctantly.  I  have known strong  warriors of  the Big  People  who  would quickly have  been overcome by  that splinter, which you bore  for seventeen days.'      `What would they have done  to me?' asked Frodo. `What  were the Riders trying to do?'      'They tried to pierce your heart with a  Morgul-knife  which remains in the wound. If they had succeeded, you would  have become like they are, only weaker and  under their  command. You  would have became a wraith under  the dominion of  the Dark Lord;  and he would have tormented you  for trying  to keep his Ring,  if any greater torment were possible than being robbed of it and seeing it on his hand.'      'Thank goodness  I  did  not  realize the horrible danger!' said  Frodo faintly. I was mortally afraid, of course; but if I had known more, I should not have dared even to move. It is a marvel that I escaped!'      'Yes, fortune or fate have helped you,' said Gandalf,  `not  to mention courage. For your heart was not touched, and only your shoulder was pierced; and that  was because you resisted to the last. But it was a terribly narrow shave, so to  speak. You were in gravest peril while you  wore the Ring, for then you were half in the wraith-world yourself, and they might have  seized you. You could see them, and they could see you.'      `I know,' said Frodo.  `They were terrible to behold! But why  could we
  431. all see their horses?'      `Because  they are real horses; just as the black robes are real  robes that they wear to give shape  to their  nothingness when  they have dealings with the living.'      `Then  why do these black  horses endure such riders? All other animals are terrified when  they draw  near, even  the elf-horse of  Glorfindel. The dogs howl and the geese scream at them.'      `Because these horses are born and bred to the service of the Dark Lord in Mordor. Not all his servants and chattels are wraiths! There are orcs and trolls, there are wargs  and werewolves; and there have been  and  still are many Men,  warriors and kings,  that walk alive under  the  Sun, and yet are under his sway. And their number is growing daily.'      `What about Rivendell and the Elves? Is Rivendell safe?'      `Yes,  at present,  until all else is conquered. The Elves may fear the Dark Lord, and they may fly before him, but  never again will they listen to him or serve him. And here in Rivendell there live  still some of his  chief foes: the Elven-wise, lords of the Eldar from beyond the furthest seas. They do not fear the Ringwraiths, for those who have dwelt in the  Blessed  Realm live at  once in both worlds, and against both the  Seen and the Unseen they have great power.'      'I  thought that I saw  a white figure that shone and did not  grow dim like the others. Was that Glorfindel then?'      'Yes, you saw him for a moment as he is upon the other side: one of the mighty  of  the Firstborn. He is an Elf-lord  of a  house of princes. Indeed there is a power in Rivendell to withstand the might of Mordor, for a while: and elsewhere other powers still dwell. There is power, too, of another kind in the Shire. But all  such places will soon  become islands under siege, if things  go  on  as they are going. The Dark  Lord is  putting forth all  his strength.      `Still,' he said, standing suddenly up and sticking out his chin. while his beard went  stiff and straight like bristling wire, `we must keep up our courage. You will  soon be  well, if I do not talk you  to death. You are in Rivendell, and you need not worry about anything for the present.'      'I haven't any courage to  keep up,'  said Frodo, `but I am not worried at  the moment. Just give me news of my friends, and tell  me the end of the affair at the  Ford, as I  keep on asking,  and I shall be  content  for the present. After that  I  shall have  another sleep, I  think; but I shan't be
  432. able to close my eyes until you have finished the story for me.'      Gandalf moved  his chair to the bedside, and took a good look at Frodo. The colour  had come  back to his face, and his  eyes were clear, and  fully awake  and aware. He was smiling,  and there seemed to be  little wrong with him. But to the wizard's eye there was a faint change just a hint as it were of transparency,  about  him, and especially  about  the left  hand that lay outside upon the coverlet.      `Still that must be expected,' said Gandalf to himself. `He is not half through  yet,  and to what  he  will  come in the  end  not even  Elrond can foretell. Not  to evil, I think. He may become  like a glass filled  with  a clear light for eyes to see that can.'      `You look splendid,' he  said aloud. `I  will risk a brief tale without consulting Elrond. But quite brief, mind you, and then you must sleep again. This is what happened, as far  as I can gather. The Riders made straight for you, as soon as you fled. They did not need the guidance of their horses any longer: you  had become visible to  them, being already on the threshold  of their world. And also the Ring drew them. Your friends sprang aside, off the road, or they would have been ridden down. They knew that nothing could save you,  if  the white horse could  not. The Riders were too swift to overtake, and too many to oppose.  On foot even  Glorfindel and Aragorn together could not with stand all the Nine at once.      `When the Ringwraiths  swept  by, your friends ran up behind.  Close to the Ford  there is a small hollow  beside  the  road masked by a few stunted trees.  There they hastily  kindled fire; for  Glorfindel knew that a  flood would come down, if  the Riders  tried  to cross,  and then he would have to deal with any that were left on his side of the river. The moment the  flood appeared, he rushed  out, followed by  Aragorn and the. others  with flaming brands. Caught between  fire and water, and seeing  an Elf-lord revealed  in his wrath, they were dismayed, and their  horses were stricken with madness. Three were  carried away by the first assault  of the flood; the others were now hurled into the water by their horses and overwhelmed.'      'And is that the end of the Black Riders?' asked Frodo.      'No,' said Gandalf. 'Their horses must have perished,  and without them they  are crippled.  But  the  Ringwraiths  themselves cannot  be  so easily destroyed. However, there is nothing more to fear from them at present. Your friends crossed after the flood had passed; and they found you lying on your face at the top of the  bank, with  a broken sword under you. The horse  was
  433. standing guard beside you. You were  pale and cold, and they feared that you were  dead,  or  worse.  Elrond's folk met them, carrying you slowly towards Rivendell.'      `Who made the flood?' asked Frodo.      'Elrond  commanded it,' answered  Gandalf. `The river of this valley is under his power, and it will rise in anger when he has great need to bar the Ford.  As soon as the  captain  of the Ringwraiths rode into  the  water the flood was released.  If I may say so, I added a few touches of  my  own: you may  not have noticed, but some of the waves  took the  form of  great white horses with shining  white riders; and there were many rolling and  grinding boulders. For a moment  I was afraid that  we  had let  loose too  fierce  a wrath, and the flood would get out of hand  and  wash you all away. There is great vigour  in  the  waters  that come down  from the snows  of  the Misty Mountains.'      `Yes,  it all  comes  back  to  me now,'  said  Frodo:  'the tremendous roaring. I thought I was drowning, with my friends  and enemies and all. But now we are safe!'      Gandalf  looked quickly at Frodo,  but he had shut his  eyes. 'Yes, you are all safe for the present. Soon there will be feasting and merrymaking to celebrate the  victory at the Ford  of Bruinen, and you will all be there in places of honour.'      'Splendid!' said Frodo. `It is  wonderful  that Elrond, and  Glorfindel and such great lords, not to  mention Strider, should take so  much  trouble and show me so much kindness.'      `Well, there  are many reasons why they should,' said Gandalf, smiling. `I am one good reason. The Ring is another: you are the Ring-bearer. And you are the heir of Bilbo, the Ring-finder.'      `Dear Bilbo!' said Frodo sleepily. `I wonder where he is. I wish he was here and could hear  all  about it.  It would have  made  him laugh, The cow jumped  over the  Moon!  And  the poor old troll!'  With that he  fell  fast asleep.      Frodo was now safe in the Last Homely House east of the Sea. That house was, as Bilbo had long ago reported, `a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a  pleasant  mixture  of  them all'.  Merely  to  be  there was  a cure  for weariness, fear, and sadness.      As the evening drew on, Frodo  woke up again, and he found  that  he no
  434. longer felt in need of rest or sleep, but had a mind for food and drink, and probably  for singing and story-telling  afterwards. He got  out of  bed and discovered that his  arm was  already nearly as useful again as it ever  had been. He found  laid ready  clean garments  of  green cloth that  fitted him excellently. Looking  in a mirror  he  was  startled to see  a  much thinner reflection  of  himself than  he remembered: it  looked remarkably like  the young nephew of Bilbo who used to go tramping  with his uncle in  the Shire; but the eyes looked out at him thoughtfully.      `Yes, you  have seen a thing or two since  you last  peeped  out  of  a looking-glass,' he said to his reflection. 'But now for a merry meeting!'      He stretched out his arms and whistled a tune.      At that moment there  was a knock on the door,  and Sam came in. He ran to Frodo and took his left hand,  awkwardly and shyly. He stroked it  gently and then he blushed and turned hastily away.      `Hullo, Sam!' said Frodo.      `It's  warm!' said Sam. `Meaning your hand, Mr.  Frodo. It has  felt so cold through  the long nights. But glory  and trumpets!'  he cried,  turning round again with shining  eyes and dancing  on  the floor. 'It's fine to see you up and yourself again, sir! Gandalf asked me to come and see if you were ready to come down, and I thought he was joking.'      'I  am ready,' said Frodo.  'Let's  go  and  look  for the rest  of the party!'      `I can  take you to them,  sir,' said Sam. `It's a  big house this, and very  peculiar. Always a bit more to discover,  and no  knowing what  you'll find round a corner. And Elves, sir! Elves  here, and Elves there! Some like kings, terrible and splendid;  and some  as merry as children. And the music and the singing-not that I have had the time or the heart for much listening since we got here. But I'm getting to know some of the ways of the place.'      'I know  what you have  been doing,  Sam,' said Frodo,  taking his arm. 'But you  shall be merry tonight,  and listen to your  heart's content. Come on, guide me round the corners!'      Sam led him  along several passages and down many steps and out  into a high garden above the  steep bank of the river. He found his friends sitting in a  porch on the side of the house looking east. Shadows had fallen in the valley below,  but there was still a light on the faces of the mountains far above. The air was warm. The sound of running  and falling  water  was loud, and the evening  was filled with a  faint scent  of trees and flowers, as if
  435. summer still lingered in Elrond's gardens.      `Hurray!' cried Pippin, springing  up.  `Here is our noble cousin! Make way for Frodo, Lord of the Ring!'      'Hush!' said Gandalf from the shadows at the back  of the  porch. `Evil things do  not  come into this valley; but all  the same we should not  name them. The Lord of the Ring is not Frodo, but the master of the Dark Tower of Mordor, whose  power is  again stretching out over the world! We are sitting in a fortress. Outside it is getting dark.'      `Gandalf  has been saying many cheerful things like that,' said Pippin. `He thinks I need keeping in  order.  But it  seems impossible, somehow,  to feel  gloomy or depressed in  this place. I feel I could sing, if I knew the right song for the occasion.'      `I feel  like singing myself,' laughed Frodo. `Though  at the moment  I feel more like eating and drinking!'      `That  will  soon  be cured,'  said  Pippin. `You have shown your usual cunning in getting up just in time for a meal.'      `More than meal!  A  feast!'  said  Merry. `As soon as Gandalf reported that  you were  recovered, the  preparations began.' He  had hardly finished speaking when they were summoned to the hall by the ringing of many bells.      The  hall of Elrond's house was filled with folk: Elves  for  the  most part,  though there were a  few guests of other  sorts.  Elrond, as  was his custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon the dais; and next to him on the one side sat Glorfindel, on the other side sat Gandalf.      Frodo looked at them in wonder, for he had never before seen Elrond, of whom  so many tales spoke; and as they sat upon his right hand and his left, Glorfindel, and even Gandalf, whom he thought he knew so well, were revealed as lords of dignity and power. Gandalf was shorter in stature than the other two; but his  long  white  hair, his  sweeping silver beard, and  his  broad shoulders, made him look like some wise king of ancient  legend. In his aged face under  great snowy brows  his dark eyes  were set like coals that could leap suddenly into fire.      Glorfindel  was tall and straight;  his  hair was of shining gold,  his face fair and young and fearless and full  of  joy; his eyes were bright and keen, and his voice like music; on his brow sat wisdom, and  in his hand was strength.      The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young, though in it was
  436. written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon  it  was set  a circlet  of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters, and yet hale as  a tried warrior in  the  fulness  of  his strength.  He was the Lord  of Rivendell and mighty among both Elves and Men.      In  the  middle of the table, against  the  woven cloths upon the wall, there  was a chair under  a canopy, and there sat a lady fair to look  upon, and so like was she in form of womanhood  to Elrond that Frodo  guessed that she was one of his  close kindred. Young she was  and yet not so. The braids of her dark  hair were touched  by no frost, her white arms and  clear  face were  flawless and smooth,  and the light  of stars was in  her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night; yet queenly she looked, and thought and knowledge were in  her  glance, as  of  one  who has known  many things that the years bring. Above her brow her head was covered with  a cap of silver lace netted with small gems, glittering white; but her soft grey raiment had no ornament save a girdle of leaves wrought in silver.      So it was  that Frodo saw  her whom few  mortals  had yet seen;  Arwen, daughter  of Elrond,  in whom it  was said  that the likeness of L®thien had come on earth again; and she was called  Undumiel, for she was  the Evenstar of her people. Long she had been in the land of her mother's kin,  in Lurien beyond  the mountains,  and  was  but  lately  returned to Rivendell  to her father's  house.  But  her  brothers, Elladan and  Elrohir,  were  out  upon errantry: for  they rode often far  afield with the  Rangers  of  the North, forgetting never their mother's torment in the dens of the orcs.      Such loveliness  in  living  thing  Frodo had  never  seen  before  nor imagined in his mind; and he was both surprised and abashed to find  that he had a seat at  Elrond's table among all these  folk so high and fair. Though he had a suitable chair, and was raised upon several  cushions, he felt very small, and  rather out of place; but that  feeling quickly passed. The feast was  merry and  the food all that his  hunger could desire. It was some time before he looked about him again or even turned to his neighbours.      He  looked first for his friends. Sam had begged to be  allowed to wait on his  master, but had been  told that  for this  time he  was  a  guest of honour. Frodo could see him  now, sitting with Pippin and Merry at the upper end  of  one of  the side-tables close to  the dais. He could see no sign of Strider.
  437.      Next to Frodo  on his right sat a dwarf of important appearance, richly dressed. His beard, very long and forked, was  white, nearly as white as the snow-white cloth  of his garments. He wore a silver belt, and round his neck hung a chain of silver and diamonds. Frodo stopped eating to look at him.      'Welcome  and well met!'  said the dwarf, turning towards  him. Then he actually rose from his seat and bowed. `Gluin at your service,' he said, and bowed still lower.      'Frodo  Baggins  at  your  service  and  your   family's,'  said  Frodo correctly, rising  in surprise and scattering  his cushions. 'Am I right  in guessing that you are the  Gluin, one of the twelve companions of the  great Thorin Oakenshield?'      `Quite  right,'  answered  the dwarf,  gathering up  the  cushions  and courteously assisting  Frodo back  into his seat. 'And I do  not ask, for  I have  already been  told that you  are  the  kinsman and adopted heir of our friend Bilbo the renowned. Allow me to congratulate you on your recovery.'      `Thank you very much,' said Frodo.      'You have had  some very strange  adventures, I hear,'  said  Gluin. 'I wonder greatly  what brings four hobbits  on so long a journey. Nothing like it  has happened  since Bilbo came with us. But perhaps I should not inquire too closely, since Elrond and Gandalf do not seem disposed to talk of this?'      'I  think  we  will not  speak  of it,  at least not  yet,' said  Frodo politely.      He guessed that  even in Elrond's house the matter of  the Ring was not one for casual talk; and in any case he wished to forget his  troubles for a time. 'But  I am  equally  curious,'  he  added,  `to learn what  brings  so important a dwarf so far from the Lonely Mountain.'      Gluin looked at him. 'If you have not heard, I  think we will not speak yet  of that either. Master  Elrond will summon us all ere long,  I believe, and  then we shall all hear many things. But there is much else that  may be told.'      Throughout the  rest  of  the  meal  they talked  together,  but  Frodo listened more than he spoke; for the news of the Shire, apart from the Ring, seemed small and far-away and unimportant. while  Gluin had much to tell  of events in the northern regions of Wilderland.  Frodo  learned that Grimbeorn the Old, son of  Beorn, was now the lord  of  many sturdy men,  and to their land between the Mountains and Mirkwood neither orc nor wolf dared to go.      'lndeed,' said Gluin,  `if it were not for  the  Beornings, the passage
  438. from  Dale  to Rivendell  would long  ago  have become  impossible. They are valiant men and keep open  the High Pass  and the Ford of Carrock. But their tolls are high,' he added with a shake of his  head;  `and like Beorn of old they are not over fond of dwarves. Still, they are trusty,  and that is much in these days. Nowhere are there any men so friendly to  us  as the  Men  of Dale. They  are  good  folk,  the Bardings. The  grandson of Bard the Bowman rules  them,  Brand son of Bain  son of Bard. He is a  strong king.  and his realm now reaches far south and east of Esgaroth.'      'And what of your own people?' asked Frodo.      `There is much  to tell, good and bad,' said  Gluin; 'yet it  is mostly good:  we have so far been fortunate, though  we do not escape the shadow of these  times. If you  really  wish  to  hear of us, I will tell  you tidings gladly.  But stop  me when  you are  weary!  Dwarves'  tongues  run  on when speaking of their handiwork, they say.'      And with that  Gluin embarked on a long  account of the doings  of  the Dwarf-kingdom.  He  was delighted  to have found  so polite a  listener; for Frodo showed no sign of weariness and made no attempt to change the subject, though  actually he  soon  got rather lost among the strange names of people and places that he had never heard of before. He was interested, however, to hear that Dbin was  still  King under the  Mountain, and was now old (having passed  his two hundred  and fiftieth year), venerable, and fabulously rich. Of the ten companions who had survived the Battle of Five Armies  seven were still with him: Dwalin, Gluin, Dori, Nori,  Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. Bombur was now so fat that he could not move himself from his couch to his chair at table, and it took six young dwarves to lift him.      'And what has become of Balin and Ori and Uin?' asked Frodo.      A shadow passed  over Gluin's face.  `We do not know,' he answered. 'It is largely  on account of  Balin that I have come to ask the advice of those that dwell in Rivendell. But tonight let us speak of merrier things!'      Gluin began then  to talk  of the works of  his  people,  telling Frodo about their  great  labours in Dale  and under the  Mountain. 'We have  done well,' he  said. `But  in  metalwork  we cannot rival  our fathers, many  of whose. secrets are lost. We make good armour and keen swords, but  we cannot again make mail or blade  to match  those  that were  made before the dragon came. Only in mining and building have we surpassed the old days. You should see  the  waterways of Dale,  Frodo, and the fountains, and  the pools!  You should  see  the  stone-paved roads  of  many  colours! And  the  halls  and
  439. cavernous streets under the earth with  arches  carved  like trees;  and the terraces and  towers upon the Mountain's  sides! Then you would  see that we have not been idle.'      'I will come and see them, if  ever I can,' said  Frodo. 'How surprised Bilbo would have been to see all the changes in the Desolation of Smaug!'      Gluin looked at Frodo and smiled. 'You were very fond of Bilbo were you not?' he asked.      `Yes,' answered Frodo. 'I would rather see him than all  the towers and palaces in the world.'      At length the feast came to an end. Elrond and Arwen rose and went down the hall, and the company followed them in due  order. The doors were thrown open, and they went across a  wide passage and through other doors, and came into a further hall.  In it were no tables, but a bright fire was burning in a great hearth between the carven pillars upon either side.      Frodo found himself  walking with  Gandalf. `This  is the Hall of Fire' said the wizard.  `Here you will hear many songs and  tales-if you  can keep awake. But except on high days it usually stands empty and quiet, and people come here who wish for peace,  and thought. There is always a fire here, all the year round, but there is little other light.'      As Elrond entered and  went towards  the seat prepared for  him, elvish minstrels began to  make sweet  music.  Slowly  the hall  filled,  and Frodo looked  with delight upon  the many  fair faces that were gathered together; the golden firelight played upon them and shimmered in  their hair. Suddenly he noticed, not far from the further  end of  the fire, a small dark  figure seated on a stool with his back propped against a pillar. Beside him on  the ground was a drinking-cup  and some bread. Frodo wondered whether he was ill (if people were ever ill in Rivendell), and had been unable  to  come to the feast. His head seemed sunk  in sleep on  his breast, and a fold of his dark cloak was drawn over his face.      Elrond went forward and stood beside the  silent figure. 'Awake  little master.  he  said, with a smile. Then, turning to Frodo, he beckoned to him. 'Now  at last  the hour has come that you have wished  for, Frodo,' he said. `Here is a friend that you have long missed.'      The dark figure raised its head and uncovered its face.      `Bilbo!' cried Frodo with sudden recognition, and he sprang forward.      `Hullo, Frodo my  lad!' said Bilbo.  `So  you have got here at  last. I
  440. hoped you would manage it. Well,  well! So  all this  feasting  is  in  your honour, I hear. I hope you enjoyed yourself?'      'Why weren't  you there?' cried Frodo.  `And why haven't I been allowed to see you before?'      `Because you were asleep. I have seen a good deal of you. I have sat by your  side with Sam each day. But as for  the feast` I don't go in  for such things much now. And I had something else to do.'      `What were you doing?'      `Why, sitting and thinking.  I do  a lot of that  nowadays, and this is the best place to do it in, as a rule. Wake up, indeed!' he said, cocking an eye at Elrond.  There was a  bright  twinkle in it and no sign of sleepiness that Frodo could see. `Wake up! I was not asleep. Master Elrond. If you want to  know,  you  have  all come  out from your feast too  soon, and  you have disturbed me-in the middle of making up a song. I was stuck  over a line  or two, and was thinking  about them; but  now I don't suppose I shall ever get them right.  There will  be such a deal of singing  that  the  ideas will be driven clean out  of my head.  I  shall have to get my friend the D®nadan to help me. Where is he?'      Elrond laughed. `He  shall  be found,' he  said. `Then you two shall go into a corner  and finish your task, and we will hear it and judge it before we end our merrymaking.' Messengers were sent to find Bilbo's friend, though none knew where he was, or why he had not been present at the feast.      In the meanwhile Frodo and Bilbo sat side by side, and Sam came quickly and placed himself near them. They talked together in soft voices, oblivious of the mirth and music in the hall about them.  Bilbo had not much to say of himself. When  he had left Hobbiton he had wandered off aimlessly, along the Road or in the country on either side;  but  somehow  he had steered all the time towards Rivendell. `I got here without  much adventure,' he  said, `and after  a rest I went on with  the dwarves to Dale: my last journey. I shan't travel again.  Old  Balin had gone away. Then I came  back  here, and here I have been. I have done this and that. I have  written some more of my  book. And, of course, I make  up a few songs. They sing them occasionally: just to please  me,  I think; for, of  course,  they aren't really  good  enough for Rivendell. And I listen and I think. Time doesn't seem to pass here: it just is. A remarkable place altogether.      `I  hear  all kinds of  news,  from  over the Mountains, and out of the South,  but  hardly  anything  from the Shire.  I heard  about  the Ring, of
  441. course. Gandalf has been here often. Not  that he has told me a  great deal, he has become closer than ever these last few years. The D®nadan has told me more. Fancy that ring of mine causing such a disturbance! It  is a pity that Gandalf did not find out more sooner. I  could  have brought  the thing here myself  long ago without  so much trouble. I have  thought several  times of going back to Hobbiton for it; but I am getting old, and they  would not let me: Gandalf and Elrond,  I  mean.  They seemed  to  think that the Enemy was looking high and low for me, and would make mincemeat of me, if he caught me tottering about in the Wild.      'And Gandalf said: "The Ring has passed on,  Bilbo. It would do no good to  you or to others, if you tried to meddle  with it  again." Odd  sort  of remark,  just like Gandalf. But he said he was looking after  you, so I  let things be. I am frightfully glad to  see  you safe and sound.' He paused and looked at Frodo doubtfully.      `Have  you got it here?' he asked  in a whisper. `I  can't help feeling curious,  you know, after all I've heard. I  should very much like  just  to peep at it again.'      `Yes, I've  got  it,' answered Frodo, feeling a strange reluctance. `It looks just the same as ever it did.'      `Well, I should just like to see it for a moment,' said Bilbo.      When he had dressed, Frodo found  that while he slept the Ring had been hung about his neck on a new chain, light but strong. Slowly he drew it out. Bilbo  put  out  his hand.  But Frodo  quickly drew  back the Ring.  To  his distress  and  amazement he found that he was no  longer looking at Bilbo; a shadow seemed to  have fallen between them, and through it he found  himself eyeing a little wrinkled creature with a hungry face and bony groping hands. He felt a desire to strike him.      The music  and singing round them seemed  to falter and a silence fell. Bilbo looked quickly at Frodo's face and passed his hand across his eyes. `I understand  now,' he said. `Put it away! I am sorry: sorry you have  come in for this burden: sorry about everything.  Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on the story. Well, it can't be helped. I wonder if it's any good  trying  to finish my  book? But  don't let's  worry about it now-let's have some real News! Tell  me all about  the Shire!'      Frodo hid the Ring away, and the shadow passed leaving hardly  a  shred
  442. of  memory.  The light  and music  of  Rivendell was about  him again. Bilbo smiled  and laughed happily. Every  item  of news  from the Shire that Frodo could  tell-aided and corrected now and again  by  Sam-was  of the  greatest interest to  him, from the felling of  the least tree to the  pranks of  the smallest child  in  Hobbiton. They were so deep in  the doings  of  the Four Farthings that they did not  notice  the arrival of a man clad in dark green cloth. For many minutes he stood looking down at them with a smile.      Suddenly  Bilbo  looked  up. 'Ah, there you are  at last,  D®nadan!' he cried.      `Strider!' said Frodo. `You seem to have a lot of names.'      `Well, Strider is one that I haven't heard before, anyway,' said Bilbo. `What do you call him that for?'      `They call me that in Bree,' said Strider laughing, 'and that is how  I was introduced to him.'      `And why do you call him D®nadan?' asked Frodo.      `The D®nadan,' said Bilbo. `He is often called that here. But I thought you  knew  enough  Elvish  at  least to  know  d®n-udan: Man  of  the  West, N®menorean. But this is not the time for lessons!' He turned to Strider.      `Where have you been, my friend? Why weren't you at the feast? The Lady Arwen was there.'      Strider looked down at Bilbo gravely. `I  know,'  he said. 'But often I must put  mirth aside. Elladan  and Elrohir  have returned  out  of the Wild unlooked-for, and they had tidings that I wished to hear at once.'      `Well, my  dear fellow,' said  Bilbo, `now you've heard the news, can't you spare me  a moment?  I want your help in  something urgent.  Elrond says this song of mine is to be finished  before the end of the evening, and I am stuck. Let's go off into a corner and polish it up!'      Strider smiled. `Come then!' he said. `Let me hear it!'      Frodo  was left  to himself  for a while. for Sam had fallen asleep. He was  alone and felt rather forlorn`  although  all  about  him  the  folk of Rivendell were gathered. But  those near  him were silent,  intent upon  the music of the voices and the instruments. and they  gave no heed to  anything else. Frodo began to listen.      At first the beauty of the  melodies  and  of  the interwoven  words in elven-tongues, even though he understood  them little` held him in  a spell, as soon as  he began to attend to them. Almost it seemed that the words took shape, and  visions of  far lands  and  bright things that he had  never yet
  443. imagined  opened out before him;  and the firelit  hall became like a golden mist above seas of foam that sighed upon the margins of the  world. Then the enchantment  became more and more dreamlike, until  he felt  that an endless river of  swelling gold  and  silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous for its  pattern to be comprehended;  it  became part of  the throbbing  air about him, and  it  drenched and  drowned him. Swiftly  he  sank  under  its shining weight into a deep realm of sleep.      There  he wandered long in a dream of  music  that turned  into running water, and  then suddenly into a  voice. It seemed  to be the voice of Bilbo chanting verses. Faint at first and then clearer ran the words.      Edrendil was a mariner      that tarried in Arvernien;      he built a boat of timber felled      in Nimbrethil to journey in;      her sails he wove of silver fair,      of silver were her lanterns made,      her prow was fashioned like a swan,      and light upon her banners laid.
  444.  
  445.      In panoply of ancient kings,      in chain‚d rings he armoured him;      his shining shield was scored with runes      to ward all wounds and harm from him;      his bow was made of dragon-horn,      his arrows shorn of ebony,      of silver was his habergeon,      his scabbard of chalcedony;      his sword of steel was valiant,      of adamant his helmet tall,      an eagle-plume upon his crest,      upon his breast an emerald.
  446.  
  447.      Beneath the Moon and under star      he wandered far from northern strands,      bewildered on enchanted ways      beyond the days of mortal lands.      From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
  448.      where shadow lies on frozen hills,      from nether heats and burning waste      he turned in haste, and roving still      on starless waters far astray      at last he came to Night of Naught,      and passed, and never sight he saw      of shining shore nor light he sought.
  449.  
  450.      The winds of wrath came driving him,      and blindly in the foam he fled      from west to east and errandless,      unheralded he homeward sped.
  451.  
  452.      There flying Elwing came to him,      and flame was in the darkness lit;      more bright than light of diamond      the fire upon her carcanet.      The Silmaril she bound on him      and crowned him with the living light      and dauntless then with burning brow      he turned his prow; and in the night      from Otherworld beyond the Sea      there strong and free a storm arose,      a wind of power in Tarmenel;      by paths that seldom mortal goes      his boat it bore with biting breath      as might of death across the grey      and long-forsaken seas distressed:      from east to west he passed away.
  453.  
  454.      Through Evernight he back was borne      on black and roaring waves that ran      o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores      that drowned before the Days began,      until he heard on strands of pearl      when ends the world the music long,      where ever foaming billows roll
  455.      the yellow gold and jewels wan.      He saw the Mountain silent rise      where twilight lies upon the knees      of Valinor, and Eldamar      beheld afar beyond the seas.      A wanderer escaped from night      to haven white he came at last,      to Elvenhome the green and fair      where keen the air, where pale as glass      beneath the Hill of Ilmarin      a-glimmer in a valley sheer      the lamplit towers of Tirion      are mirrored on the Shadowmere.
  456.  
  457.      He tarried there from errantry,      and melodies they taught to him,      and sages old him marvels told,      and harps of gold they brought to him.      They clothed him then in elven-white,      and seven lights before him sent,      as through the Calacirian      to hidden land forlorn he went.      He came unto the timeless halls      where shining fall the countless years,      and endless reigns the Elder King      in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;      and words unheard were spoken then      of folk of Men and Elven-kin,      beyond the world were visions showed      forbid to those that dwell therein.
  458.  
  459.      A ship then new they built for him      of mithril and of elven-glass      with shining prow; no shaven oar      nor sail she bore on silver mast:      the Silmaril as lantern light      and banner bright with living flame
  460.      to gleam thereon by Elbereth      herself was set, who thither came      and wings immortal made for him,      and laid on him undying doom,      to sail the shoreless skies and come      behind the Sun and light of Moon.
  461.  
  462.      From Evereven's lofty hills      where softly silver fountains fall      his wings him bore, a wandering light,      beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.      From World's End then he turned away      and yearned again to find afar      his home through shadows journeying,      and burning as an island star      on high above the mists he came,      a distant flame before the Sun,      a wonder ere the waking dawn      where grey the Norland waters run.
  463.  
  464.      And over Middle-earth he passed      and heard at last the weeping sore      of women and of elven-maids      in Elder Days, in years of yore.      gut on him mighty doom was laid,      till Moon should fade, an orb‚d star      to pass, and tarry never more      on Hither Shores where mortals are;      for ever still a herald on      an errand that should never rest      to bear his shining lamp afar,      the Flammifer of Westernesse.      The  chanting  ceased. Frodo opened his eyes  and  saw  that Bilbo  was seated  on  his  stool  in  a  circle  of listeners,  who  were smiling  and applauding.      `Now we had better have it again,' said an Elf.      Bilbo got up  and bowed.  `I am  flattered, Lindir,'  he said. 'But  it
  465. would be too tiring to repeat it all.'      'Not too  tiring  for you,' the Elves answered laughing.  'You know you are never tired  of reciting  your own verses.  But really  we cannot answer your question at one hearing!'      `What!' cried Bilbo. 'You can't tell which parts were  mine,  and which were the D®nadan's?'      'It is not easy for us to tell the difference between two mortals' said the Elf.      'Nonsense, Lindir,'  snorted Bilbo. 'If you can't distinguish between a Man  and a Hobbit,  your  judgement is  poorer than  I  imagined. They're as different as peas and apples.'      'Maybe.  To  sheep  other sheep no  doubt  appear  different,'  laughed Lindir. `Or to shepherds. But Mortals have not been our study. We have other business.'      'I won't  argue with you,' said Bilbo. 'I am sleepy after so much music and singing. I'll leave you to guess, if you want to.'      He got up and came towards Frodo. 'Well, that's over,' he said in a low voice. `It went off  better than  I expected. I don't often get asked for  a second hearing. What did you think of it?'      `I am not going to try and guess,' said Frodo smiling.      `You needn't,' said Bilbo. `As a matter of fact it was all mine. Except that Aragorn insisted  on my putting in a green stone. He seemed to think it important. I don't know  why. Otherwise he obviously thought the whole thing rather above my head, and  he  said that if I had  the cheek to make  verses about  Edrendil in the house  of  Elrond, it was my affair. I suppose he was right.'      'I don't know,' said Frodo. `It seemed to  me  to fit somehow, though I can't explain. I was half asleep when you began,  and it seemed to follow on from  something that I  was dreaming about.  I didn't understand that it was really you speaking until near the end.'      `It is  difficult to  keep awake here, until you get used to it;'  said Bilbo.  'Not that hobbits  would ever acquire quite  the elvish appetite for music and poetry and tales. They seem to like them as much as food, or more. They will be going on  for a long time yet. What  do you say to slipping off for some more quiet talk?'      `Can we?' said Frodo.      `Of course. This is merrymaking not business.  Come and go as you like,
  466. as long as you don't make a noise.'      They  got  up and withdrew quietly into the shadows, and made  for  the doors. Sam they left behind, fast asleep still with a  smile on his face. In spite of his delight in  Bilbo's company Frodo felt a tug of  regret as they passed  out of the Hall of Fire.  Even as they  stepped over the threshold a single clear voice rose in song.      A Elbereth Gilthoniel,      silivren penna mnriel      o menel aglar elenath!      Na-chaered palan-dnriel      o galadhremmin ennorath,      Fanuilos, le linnathon      nef aear, sn nef aearon!      Frodo halted  for a moment,  looking back. Elrond was in his  chair and the  fire was on his face like summer-light upon the trees. Near him sat the Lady Arwen. To  his surprise  Frodo saw that Aragorn stood  beside  her; his dark cloak was thrown back, and he seemed  to be  clad  in elven-mail, and a star shone  on his breast.  They spoke together, and then suddenly it seemed to Frodo that Arwen  turned towards him, and the light of  her eyes  fell on him from afar and pierced his heart.      He  stood still enchanted, while the sweet syllables of the elvish song fell like  clear  jewels  of blended  word  and melody. `It  is  a  song  to Elbereth,' said Bilbo. `They will sing that, and other songs of the  Blessed Realm, many times tonight. Come on!'      He led Frodo back to his own little room. It opened on to the  gar dens and looked  south across the ravine  of the Bruinen. There they sat for some while,  looking  through  the   window   at  the  bright  stars  above   the steep-climbing  woods, and  talking softly. They  spoke no more of the small news of  the  Shire far  away, nor  of  the dark  shadows  and  perils  that encompassed  them,  but  of  the  fair  things  they  had seen in the  world together,  of the Elves, of the stars, of trees, and the  gentle fall of the bright year in the woods.      At last there came  a knock  on the door. `Begging  your pardon,'  said Sam,  putting in his head, `but I was just wondering if you would be wanting anything.'      `And begging yours, Sam Gamgee,' replied  Bilbo. `I guess you mean that it is time your master went to bed.'
  467.      `Well, sir,  there is a  Council early tomorrow, I hear and he only got up today for the first time.'      `Quite right, Sam,'  laughed Bilbo. `You can  trot off and tell Gandalf that he  has gone to bed. Good night, Frodo! Bless me, but it  has been good to see you again! There are no folk like  hobbits  after all for a real good talk. I am getting very  old, and I began to wonder if I should ever live to see your chapters of  our story. Good night! I'll take a walk, I  think, and look at the stars of Elbereth in the garden. Sleep well!'
  468.  
  469.  
  470.  
  471. Chapter 2. The Council of Elrond
  472.  
  473.  
  474.      Next day Frodo woke  early, feeling refreshed and well. He walked along the terraces above  the  loud-flowing Bruinen and watched the pale, cool sun rise  above the far  mountains, and shine  down. Slanting  through the  thin silver mist;  the dew upon the  yellow leaves was glimmering, and  the woven nets of  gossamer twinkled  on  every bush.  Sam  walked beside  him, saying nothing.  but  sniffing the air, and looking every now and again with wonder in his eyes at the great heights in the East. The snow was white upon  their peaks.      On a seat cut  in  the  stone beside  a turn in the path they came upon Gandalf and  Bilbo  deep in  talk. `Hullo!  Good morning!' said Bilbo. `Feel ready for the great council?'      `I feel ready  for anything,' answered Frodo. `But most of all I should like to go walking  today and  explore the valley. I should like to get into those pine-woods up there.' He pointed away far up the side of  Rivendell to the north.      'You may  have  a chance later,' said Gandalf. `But we cannot  make any plans yet. There is much to hear and decide today.'      Suddenly as they were talking a  single clear bell rang out.  `That  is the warning bell for the Council of Elrond,' cried Gandalf. `Come along now! Both you and Bilbo are wanted.'      Frodo and Bilbo followed the wizard quickly along the winding path back to the  house; behind them, uninvited and for the moment forgotten,  trotted Sam.      Gandalf  led them to the porch where  Frodo had found  his  friends the evening before. The light of the clear autumn morning was now glowing in the valley. The noise of bubbling  waters  came up  from the foaming  river-bed. Birds were singing,  and a  wholesome  peace lay on the  land. To  Frodo his dangerous flight, and  the rumours  of  the darkness growing  in  the  world outside, already seemed only the memories of a troubled dream; but the faces that were turned to meet them as they entered were grave.      Elrond was there, and  several others were seated in silence about him. Frodo saw Glorfindel and Gluin;  and  in a corner alone Strider was sitting, clad in  his old  travel-worn clothes again. Elrond drew Frodo to a seat  by
  475. his side, and presented him to the company, saying:      'Here, my friends is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come hither through greater peril or on an errand more urgent.'      He then  pointed  out  and named those whom Frodo  had  not met before. There was a younger dwarf at Gluin's side: his son Gimli. Beside  Glorfindel there were several other counsellors of Elrond's household, of  whom Erestor was the chief; and with him was Galdor, an Elf  from the Grey Havens who had come on an errand from Cnrdan the Shipwright. There  was also a  strange Elf clad in green  and  brown,  Legolas, a messenger from his father, Thranduil, the King of the  Elves of Northern Mirkwood. And seated a little apart was a tall man with a fair and  noble face,  dark-haired and  grey-eyed, proud and stern of glance.      He was cloaked and booted as if for a  journey on horseback; and indeed though his garments were rich,  and his cloak was lined with  fur, they were stained with long travel. He had a  collar of silver in which a single white stone was set; his locks  were shorn about his shoulders.  On a  baldric  he wore  a  great horn tipped with  silver that now was laid upon his knees. He gazed at Frodo and Bilbo with sudden wonder.      `Here,' said Elrond,  turning  to Gandalf, `is Boromir, a man  from the South. He arrived in the grey morning, and seeks for counsel. I  have bidden him to be present, for here his questions will be answered.'      Not all that was  spoken and debated in the  Council need now  be told. Much was said of events in  the  world outside, especially in the South, and in  the wide lands east of the Mountains. Of these things Frodo  had already heard many rumours; but the tale of Gluin was new to him, and when the dwarf spoke he listened attentively. It appeared that amid the splendour  of their works  of  hand  the  hearts of  the  Dwarves of  the  Lonely Mountain  were troubled.      `It is now many years ago,' said Gluin, `that a shadow of disquiet fell upon our people. Whence it came we did not at first perceive. Words began to be whispered in secret-: it was said that we were hemmed in  a narrow place, and  that greater wealth and splendour would be found in a wider world. Some spoke of Moria: the mighty works of our fathers  that are called in  our own tongue Khazad-dym; and they  declared that now at last  we had the power and numbers to return.'      Gluin  sighed. `Moria! Moria! Wonder of the Northern world! Too deep we delved there, and woke the nameless fear. Long  have  its vast mansions lain
  476. empty since the  children of Durin fled. But now we  spoke of  it again with longing, and yet with  dread;  for  no dwarf has dared to pass  the doors of Khazad-dym  for many  lives of kings, save Thrur only, and  he  perished. At last, however,  Balin  listened to  the whispers,  and resolved  to  go; and though Dbin did not  give leave willingly, he took with him  Ori and Uin and many of our folk, and they went away south.      "That  was  nigh  on thirty  years ago. For a while we had  news and it seemed good: messages reported that Moria had been entered and a great  work begun there.  Then there was silence,  and  no word has ever come from Moria since.      "Then  about  a  year  ago  a  messenger came  to Dbin,  but  not  from Moria-from Mordor: a horseman in the night, who called Dbin to his gate. The Lord Sauron the Great, so he said, wished for our friendship. Rings he would give for  it, such  as he gave  of  old.  And he  asked urgently  concerning hobbits, of what kind they were, and where they dwelt.  "For Sauron  knows," said he, "that one of these was known to you on a time."      'At this we were greatly troubled, and we gave no answer. And  then his fell  voice was lowered,  and he  would have sweetened it if he could. "As a small token only of your friendship  Sauron asks this,"  he  said: "that you should find this thief," such  was  his word, "and get from him, willing  or no, a  little  ring, the least of  rings,  that  once he stole. It  is but a trifle that Sauron fancies, and an earnest of your good  will.  Find it, and three rings that the Dwarf sires possessed of old shall be  returned to you, and the realm of Moria shall be yours for ever. Find only news of the thief, whether  he  still lives  and where,  and you  shall  have great  reward and lasting friendship from the Lord. Refuse,  and things will not seem so well. Do you refuse?"      'At that his breath came like  the hiss of snakes, and all who stood by shuddered, but  Dbin said: "I say neither yea nor  nay. I must consider this message and what it means under its fair cloak."      ' "Consider well, but not too long," said he.      ` "The time of my thought is my own to spend," answered Dbin.      ' "For the present," said he, and rode into the darkness.      'Heavy have the  hearts  of our  chieftains  been since that  night. We needed not the fell voice of  the messenger to  warn us that his  words held both  menace  and  deceit; for  we knew  already that  the  power  that  has re-entered Mordor has not changed, and ever it betrayed us of old. Twice the
  477. messenger has returned, and has gone unanswered. The third and last time, so he says, is soon to come, before the ending of the year.      'And so I  have been  sent at last by Dbin  to warn  Bilbo  that  he is sought by the Enemy, and to learn, if may be, why he desires this ring, this least of rings. Also we crave the advice of Elrond. For the Shadow grows and draws nearer.  We discover that messengers  have come also to King  Brand in Dale,  and  that he is  afraid. We  fear  that he may yield. Already war  is gathering on  his eastern borders.  If we make no answer, the Enemy may move Men of his rule to assail King Brand, and Dbin also.'      `You  have done well to come,' said Elrond.  `You will  hear today  all that you need in order to  understand  the purposes of the  Enemy. There  is naught that you can do, other than to resist, with hope or without  it.  But you do not stand alone. You will learn that your  trouble is but part of the trouble of all the western world. The Ring! What shall we do  with the Ring, the least of rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies? That is the doom that we must deem.      `That is the  purpose for which you are  called hither. Called, I  say. though  I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands. You  have come and are here met, in this very nick  of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it  is not so. Believe rather that it is  so ordered  that  we, who  sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world.      `Now, therefore, things  shall be  openly spoken that  have been hidden from all  but a few  until this  day. And first, so that all  may understand what is the  peril, the  Tale  of the Ring shall be told  from the beginning even  to this present.  And I will begin that tale, though others  shall end it.'      Then all listened while  Elrond in his clear voice  spoke of Sauron and the Rings of Power,  and  their forging in the  Second Age of the world long ago. A part of his tale was known to some there, but the full  tale to none, and  many eyes were turned  t= Elrond in  fear and wonder as he  told of the Elven-smiths of Eregion and their friendship with Moria, and their eagerness for knowledge,  by which Sauron ensnared them. For  in that time he was  not yet evil to  behold, and they received his  aid  and  grew mighty in  craft, whereas he learned all their secrets, and betrayed them, and forged secretly in the Mountain of Fire the One Ring to be their master. But Celebrimbor was aware of him, and  hid the  Three which  he had made; and there was war, and the land was laid waste, and the gate of Moria was shut.
  478.      Then through all the years that followed he  traced the Ring; but since that history is elsewhere recounted, even as Elrond  himself  set it down in his books of lore,  it is not  here recalled. For it is a long tale, full of deeds great and terrible, and briefly though Elrond spoke,  the sun rode  up the sky, and the morning was passing ere he ceased.      Of N®menor he spoke, its glory  and its fall,  and the  return  of  the Kings of Men to Middle-earth out  of the  deeps of  the Sea, borne  upon the wings  of storm.  Then Elendil the  Tall and  his  mighty sons,  Isildur and Anbrion, became great lords; and the North-realm they made in Arnor, and the South-realm  in  Gondor above  the mouths  of  Anduin. But Sauron of  Mordor assailed them, and they made the Last Alliance of  Elves  and  Men,  and the hosts of Gil-galad and Elendil were mustered in Arnor.      Thereupon  Elrond paused a  while  and  sighed.  `I  remember  well the splendour  of  their banners,' he said.  `It recalled to me the glory of the Elder  Days  and the hosts of Beleriand, so many great princes and  captains were  assembled. And yet not so many, nor so fair, as when Thangorodrim  was broken, and the  Elves deemed that evil was ended for ever,  and it was  not so.'      `You  remember?'  said  Frodo,   speaking  his  thought  aloud  in  his astonishment. `But I thought,' he stammered as Elrond turned towards him, 'I thought that the fall of Gil-galad was a long age ago.'      'So  it was  indeed,' answered  Elrond gravely.  `But my memory reaches back even  to the Elder Days. Edrendil was my sire, who was born in Gondolin before its fall; and my mother was Elwing, daughter  of Dior, son of L®thien of  Doriath.  I  have  seen  three ages in the West of the world,  and  many defeats, and many fruitless victories.      `I  was the herald of Gil-galad and marched with his host. I was at the Battle  of  Dagorlad before  the  Black Gate of  Mordor,  where  we had  the mastery: for the Spear  of  Gil-galad and the  Sword of Elendil, Aiglos  and Narsil, none could  withstand.  I beheld the  last  combat  on the slopes of Orodruin, where Gil-galad  died, and  Elendil fell, and Narsil broke beneath him; but Sauron himself  was overthrown, and Isildur  cut the Ring  from his hand with the hilt-shard of his father's sword, and took it for his own.'      At this the stranger, Boromir, broke in. `So that is what became of the Ring!' he  cried. `If ever  such a  tale was told in the South, it  has long been forgotten. I have  heard of  the Great Ring of him that we do not name; but we believed  that it  perished from the world in the  ruin of  his first
  479. realm. Isildur took it! That is tidings indeed.'      `Alas! yes,' said Elrond. `Isildur took it, as should not have been. It should have  been cast then into Orodruin's fire nigh  at hand  where it was made. But few marked what Isildur did.  He alone stood by his father in that last mortal  contest; and by Gil-galad only Cnrdan stood, and I. But Isildur would not listen to our counsel.      '  "This  I will have as weregild for  my father, and my  brother,"  he said; and  therefore whether we would or no, he took  it to treasure it. But soon he was betrayed by  it  to  his death; and so  it is named in the North Isildur's Bane. Yet death  maybe  was  better  than  what  else  might  have befallen him.      'Only to the North did  these tidings come, and  only  to a few.  Small wonder  it is that you have not heard them,  Boromir. From the  ruin  of the Gladden Fields,  where Isildur perished, three men only came ever back  over the mountains  after long wandering. One of these was  Ohtar, the esquire of Isildur, who bore the shards of the sword of Elendil; and he brought them to Valandil, the heir of Isildur, who being  but a  child had remained  here in Rivendell.  But Narsil was broken and its light extinguished, and it has not yet been forged again.      `Fruitless did I call the victory of the Last  Alliance? Not wholly so, yet it  did not achieve  its  end. Sauron was diminished, but not destroyed. His  Ring was  lost  but  not  unmade. The Dark  Tower  was broken,  but its foundations were not removed; for they were made with the power of the Ring, and while it remains  they will endure. Many Elves and many mighty Men,  and many  of  their  friends. had perished  in  the war. Anbrion  was slain, and Isildur was slain; and Gil-galad and Elendil were no more. Never again shall there  be  any  such  league  of  Elves  and  Men; for Men  multiply and the Firstborn decrease, and the two  kindreds are estranged. And ever since that day  the race  of N®menor has decayed,  and  the  span of  their  years  has lessened.      'In the North after the war and the slaughter of the Gladden Fields the Men  of Westernesse were diminished, and their city of Ann®minas beside Lake Evendim fell  into ruin; and  the heirs  of Valandil  removed and  dwelt  at Fornost on the high North Downs, and  that now too is desolate. Men call  it Deadmen's  Dike,  and  they  fear  to  tread there.  For the  folk of  Arnor
  480. dwindled, and their  foes devoured them, and their lordship passed,  leaving only green mounds in the grassy hills.      'In  the South  the  realm of Gondor long endured; and for a while  its splendour grew, recalling  somewhat of the might  of N®menor,  ere it  fell. High towers  that people built, and strong places. and havens of many ships; and the  winged crown of the Kings of  Men was  held in awe by folk of  many tongues. Their chief city was  Osgiliath, Citadel of the Stars. through  the midst of which  the River  flowed. And Minas Ithil they built, Tower  of the Rising  Moon,  eastward  upon  a shoulder of the  Mountains  of  Shadow; and westward at the feet of the White  Mountains Minas Anor they made, Tower  of the Setting Sun. There in the courts of the King grew a white tree, from the seed of that tree which Isildur  brought over the  deep waters, and the seed of that tree before came from Eressla, and before that  out of the Uttermost West in the Day before days when the world was young.      `But  in the  wearing of the  swift years  of Middle-earth the line  of Meneldil son of Anbrion failed, and the  Tree withered, and the blood of the N®menoreans became  mingled with that of lesser men. Then the watch upon the walls of  Mordor slept, and  dark  things crept back to  Gorgoroth. And on a time evil things came  forth, and they took Minas Ithil and abode in it, and they made it into a place of dread; and it is called Minas Morgul, the Tower of Sorcery. Then Minas Anor was named anew Minas Tirith, the Tower of Guard; and these two cities  were ever at war, but Osgiliath  which lay between was deserted and in its ruins shadows walked.      'So it has been  for many lives of men. But  the  Lords of Minas Tirith still  fight on, defying our enemies, keeping the passage  of the River from Argonath  to the  Sea.  And now that part of the tale that  I shall tell  is drawn to its close. For in the days of Isildur the Ruling Ring passed out of all knowledge, and the  Three  were  released from  its dominion. But now in this latter day they  are  in peril once more, for to our sorrow the One has been  found. Others shall speak of its finding,  for  in that I played small part.'      He ceased, but  at once Boromir  stood up, tall and proud, before them. Give  me leave, Master  Elrond, said  he, first  to  say more of Gondor; for verily from the land of Gondor I  am come. And  it would  be well for all to know what passes there. For few,  I deem, know of  our deeds, and  therefore
  481. guess little of their peril, if we should fail at last.      `Believe  not that in the land of Gondor the blood of N®menor is spent, nor all its pride  and dignity forgotten. By our valour the wild folk of the East are still restrained,  and the terror of Morgul  kept at bay; and  thus alone are peace and freedom maintained in the lands behind  us,  bulwark  of the West. But if the passages of the River should be won, what then?      `Yet  that hour, maybe, is not now far away.  The  Nameless  Enemy  has arisen again.  Smoke  rises once more from Orodruin that we call Mount Doom. The power  of the Black  Land  grows and we are  hard beset. When the  Enemy returned  our folk were driven from  Ithilien, our fair  domain east of  the River, though we kept a  foothold there and  strength of arms. But this very year,  in  the days of  June, sudden war came  upon us out of Mordor, and we were swept away. We were  outnumbered, for Mordor has allied itself with the Easterlings  and the cruel Haradrim; but it was not by numbers that we  were defeated. A power was there that we have not felt before.      `Some said  that it could be seen, like a great  black horseman, a dark shadow under the moon. Wherever he came a  madness filled our foes, but fear fell on our boldest, so that horse and man gave way and fled. Only a remnant of our eastern force came back, destroying the last bridge that still  stood amid the ruins of Osgiliath.      'I was in  the company  that  held the  bridge, until it was cast  down behind us. Four  only were saved by swimming: my brother and myself and  two others. But still we  fight on, holding all  the  west shores of Anduin; and those who shelter behind us give us praise, if ever they hear our name: much praise but little help. Only from Rohan  now will any men ride to us when we call.      `In this evil hour I have come on an errand over many dangerous leagues to Elrond: a hundred and ten days I have journeyed all alone. But  I  do not seek allies in war. The  might of Elrond is in wisdom not in weapons,  it is said. I come  to ask for counsel and  the  unravelling of hard words. For on the  eve  of  the  sudden assault a dream came to  my brother in a  troubled sleep; and afterwards a like dream came oft to him again, and once to me.      'In that  dream I  thought the  eastern sky grew dark  and there  was a growing thunder, but  in  the  West a pale light lingered, and out of  it  I
  482. heard a voice, remote but clear, crying:      Seek for the Sword that was broken:      In Imladris it dwells;      There shall be counsels taken      Stronger than Morgul-spells.      There shall be shown a token      That Doom is near at hand,      For Isildur's Bane shall waken,      And the Halfling forth shall stand.      Of these words we could understand little, and we  spoke to our father, Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, wise in the lore of  Gondor. This only would he say, that Imladris was  of old the name among the Elves of a far northern dale, where Elrond the Halfelven dwelt, greatest  of lore-masters. Therefore my  brother, seeing how desperate  was our need, was eager to heed the dream and seek for  Imladris; but since the  way was full  of doubt and  danger, I took the journey upon  myself. Loth was my father to give me leave, and long have I  wandered  by roads forgotten, seeking the house of Elrond, of  which many had heard, but few knew where it lay.'      'And here in the house of Elrond more shall be made clear to you'  said Aragorn,  standing up. He cast  his sword upon the  table  that stood before Elrond,  and  the blade  was in  two  pieces.  `Here  is  the Sword that was Broken!' he said.      `And  who  are you, and what have  you to do with  Minas Tirith?' asked Boromir,  looking  in  wonder  at  the  lean face  of  the  Ranger  and  his weather-stained cloak.      `He is Aragorn  son of Arathorn,'  said Elrond;  `and  he is  descended through many fathers from Isildur Elendil's son of  Minas  Ithil. He  is the Chief of the D®nedain in the North, and few are now left of that folk.'      `Then  it  belongs to  you,  and not to  me  at all!'  cried  Frodo  in amazement, springing to his feet, as if he expected  the Ring to be demanded at once.      'It does not belong  to either of us,'  said Aragorn; `but it has  been ordained that you should hold it for a while.'      'Bring out the Ring, Frodo!' said Gandalf solemnly. `The time has come. Hold it up, and then Boromir will understand the remainder of his riddle.'      There was a hush, and all turned their eyes on Frodo. He was shaken  by a sudden shame and fear; and he felt a great reluctance to  reveal the Ring,
  483. and a loathing of its touch. He wished he was far away. The Ring gleamed and flickered as he held it up before them in his trembling hand.      'Behold Isildur's Bane!' said Elrond.      Boromir's eyes glinted as he gazed at the golden thing. `The Halfling!' he  muttered.  `Is then the  doom of Minas Tirith come at last? But why then should we seek a broken sword?'      'The words were not the  doom of Minas Tirith,' said Aragorn. `But doom and great  deeds are indeed at hand.  For the  Sword that  was Broken is the Sword of Elendil that broke beneath him when  he fell. It has been treasured by  his  heirs when all other heirlooms  were lost; for it was spoken of old among  us that it should be made  again when the  Ring, Isildur's  Bane, was found. Now you have seen the sword that you have sought, what would you ask? Do you wish for the House of Elendil to return to the Land of Gondor?'      `I was  not  sent to beg  any boon, but to  seek only the meaning  of a riddle,' answered Boromir proudly. `Yet we are hard  pressed, and  the Sword of  Elendil would be a help beyond  our hope-if  such a  thing could  indeed return out of  the  shadows  of  the past.' He looked again  at Aragorn, and doubt was in his eyes.      Frodo felt Bilbo stir impatiently at his side. Evidently he was annoyed on his friend's behalf. Standing suddenly up he burst out:      All that is gold does not glitter,      Not all those who wander are lost;      The old that is strong does not wither,      Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
  484.  
  485.      From the ashes a fire shall be woken,      A light from the shadows shall spring;      Renewed shall be blade that was broken:      The crownless again shall be king.      `Not very good perhaps, but to the point -- if you need more beyond the word  of Elrond. If that  was worth a journey of a hundred  and ten days  to hear, you had best listen to it.' He sat down with a snort.      `I  made  that  up myself,' he whispered to Frodo, `for the  D®nadan, a long  time  ago when  he first told me about  himself. I almost wish that my adventures were not over, and that I could go with him when his day comes.'      Aragorn smiled at him; then he turned to Boromir again. `For my part  I
  486. forgive your doubt,'  he said. 'Little do I resemble the figures  of Elendil and Isildur as they stand carven in their majesty in  the halls of Denethor. I  am but the heir of Isildur, not Isildur himself. I  have had  a hard life and a long; and  the  leagues that lie between here and  Gondor are a  small part  in the count of my journeys.  I have crossed many mountains  and  many rivers, and trodden  many  plains, even  into the far  countries of Rhyn and Harad where the stars are strange.      'But my home, such  as I have, is in the  North. For  here the heirs of Valandil have ever dwelt in long line unbroken from father unto son for many generations.  Our days have darkened,  and  we  have dwindled; but ever  the Sword has passed to a new keeper. And this I will say to you, Boromir, ere I end.  Lonely  men are we, Rangers of  the wild, hunters--but hunters ever of the servants  of the Enemy; for they are found in many places, not in Mordor only.      `If Gondor, Boromir, has been a stalwart tower, we  have played another part. Many evil things there are that your strong walls and bright swords do not  stay. You  know  little  of the  lands beyond  your  bounds.  Peace and freedom, do you say? The North would have known them little but for us. Fear would  have destroyed them.  But when dark  things come  from the  houseless hills, or creep from sunless  woods,  they fly from us. What roads would any dare to tread, what safety would there be in quiet lands, or in the homes of simple men at night, if the D®nedain were asleep, or were all gone into  the grave?      `And yet less  thanks  have  we than you. Travellers  scowl at  us, and countrymen give us  scornful names. "Strider"  I am to one fat man who lives within a day's march  of foes that would  freeze his heart or lay his little town in ruin, if he were not guarded ceaselessly. Yet we would  not have  it otherwise. If simple folk are free from care and fear, simple  they will be, and we must be secret to keep them so. That has been the task of my kindred, while the years have lengthened and the grass has grown.      `But now  the world is changing once again. A new hour comes. Isildur's Bane is found. Battle is at hand. The Sword  shall be reforged. I  will come to Minas Tirith.'      `Isildur's Bane is found, you say,' said Boromir. `I have seen a bright ring in the Halfling's hand; but Isildur perished ere this  age of the world began, they say. How do  the Wise know that this ring is his? And how has it passed  down  the  years,  until  it  is  brought  hither  by so  strange  a
  487. messenger?'      `That shall be told,' said Elrond.      `But not  yet, I beg, Master!' said Bilbo. `Already the Sun is climbing to noon, and I feel the need of something to strengthen me.'      `I  had  not named you,' said Elrond  smiling. `But I do so now.  Come! Tell us your tale. And if you have  not yet cast your story  into verse, you may tell it in plain words. The briefer, the sooner shall you be refreshed.'      `Very well,' said Bilbo. `I will do as you bid. But I will now tell the true story, and  if some here have heard  me tell it otherwise' -- he looked sidelong at Gluin -- `I ask them to forget it  and forgive me. I only wished to claim the treasure  as my very own  in those days, and to be rid  of  the name of thief that was put on me. But  perhaps I understand things a  little better now. Anyway, this is what happened.'      To  some there  Bilbo's tale was  wholly  new, and they  listened  with amazement while  the old  hobbit, actually not  at all displeased, recounted his  adventure with Gollum, at full length. He did not omit a single riddle. He would have given also  an account of his party and disappearance from the Shire, if he had been allowed; but Elrond raised his hand.      'Well told, my friend,' he said, `but that  is enough at this time. For the moment it suffices to know that the Ring passed to Frodo, your heir. Let him now speak!'      Then, less willingly  than Bilbo, Frodo  told of all his  dealings with the  Ring from the day that  it passed  into his keeping. Every step  of his journey from Hobbiton to the Ford  of Bruinen was questioned and considered, and  everything  that  he  could  recall  concerning  the  Black Riders  was examined. At last he sat down again.      `Not bad,' Bilbo said to him. `You  would have made a good story of it, if they hadn't kept  on interrupting. I tried to  make  a few notes,  but we shall have to  go  over it all again together some time, if I am to write it up. There are whole chapters of stuff before you ever got here!'      `Yes, it made quite a long tale,' answered Frodo. 'But  the story still does not seem complete to  me.  I still want to know a good deal, especially about Gandalf.'      Galdor of the Havens, who sat near by, overheard him. `You speak for me also,'  he cried, and  turning  to  Elrond he  said: `The Wise may have good reason to believe that the halfling's trove is indeed the Great Ring of long debate, unlikely though that may seem to those who know less. But may we not
  488. hear  the proofs? And I would ask this  also. What of Saruman? He is learned in  the lore of the Rings, yet he is not among us. What is his counsel-if he knows the things that we have heard?'      `The  questions that you ask, Galdor, are bound together,' said Elrond. `I had not  overlooked them, and they shall be answered. But these things it is the part of Gandalf to make clear;  and I call upon  him last, for it  is the place of honour, and in all this matter he has been the chief.'      `Some,  Galdor,'  said Gandalf, `would think the tidings of Gluin,  and the pursuit of  Frodo,  proof enough that the halfling's trove is a thing of great worth to  the Enemy. Yet it is a ring. What then? The Nine the  Nazgyl keep. The Seven are taken or destroyed.' At this Gluin stirred, but  did not speak. `The Three we know of. What then is this one that he desires so much?      'There  is indeed  a  wide  waste of time  between  the River  and  the Mountain, between the loss and the finding. But  the gap in the knowledge of the Wise  has been  filled at  last. Yet too slowly. For  the Enemy has been close  behind, closer even than I feared. And well is it that not until this year, this very summer, as it seems, did he learn the full truth.      'Some here will remember that many years ago I myself dared to pass the doors of the Necromancer in Dol Guldur,  and secretly explored his ways, and found thus that our fears  were  true:  he was none other than  Sauron,  our Enemy of  old, at  length  taking shape  and power  again.  Some,  too, will remember also that Saruman dissuaded us from open deeds against him, and for long we watched him only.  Yet at last, as his shadow grew, Saruman yielded, and the Council put forth its strength  and  drove  the evil out of Mirkwood and that was in the very year of the finding of this Ring: a strange chance, if chance it was.      `But we were  too late, as Elrond foresaw. Sauron  also had watched us, and had long prepared against our stroke, governing Mordor from afar through Minas Morgul, where his Nine servants dwelt, until  all  was  ready. Then he gave way before us,  but  only feigned to flee,  and soon  after came to the Dark Tower and openly declared  himself. Then for the  last time the Council met; for now we learned that  he was seeking ever more eagerly for the  One. We feared then that  he had some news  of it  that we knew  nothing  of. But Saruman said nay, and repeated what  he had  said to us before: that the One would never again be found in Middle-earth.      `  "At  the worst,"  said he, "our Enemy knows that we have  it not and
  489. that it still is  lost. But what was lost may yet be  found, he thinks. Fear not! His hope will cheat him. Have I not earnestly studied this matter? Into Anduin the Great it fell; and long ago,  while  Sauron slept, it  was rolled down the River to the Sea. There let it lie until the End."'      Gandalf fell silent, gazing eastward from the porch to the far peaks of the Misty Mountains, at whose great roots the peril of the world had so long lain hidden. He sighed.      `There  I was at fault,' he said. `I was lulled by the words of Saruman the Wise; but I should have sought for the truth sooner, and our peril would now be less.'      `We were all at  fault,' said Elrond, `and but  for your vigilance  the Darkness, maybe, would already be upon us. But say on!'      `From the first my heart misgave  me,  against all reason that I knew,' said Gandalf, `and I desired  to know how this thing came to Gollum, and how long he had possessed it. So I set a watch for  him, guessing that he  would ere long come forth from his darkness to seek for his treasure. He came, but he escaped and was not found. And then alas! I let the matter rest, watching and waiting only, as we have too often done.      `Time passed  with many cares, until my  doubts were awakened again  to sudden  fear. Whence  came the hobbit's  ring?  What,  if my  fear was true, should be  done with it? Those  things I must decide. But I spoke yet of  my dread to none, knowing the peril of an  untimely whisper, if it went astray. In all the long wars with  the Dark Tower treason has ever been our greatest foe.      'That was seventeen years ago. Soon I became aware  that  spies of many sorts, even  beasts and birds,  were gathered round the Shire, and  my  fear grew.  I called  for the help of the D®nedain, and their watch  was doubled; and I opened my heart to Aragorn, the heir of Isildur.'      `And I,' said Aragorn, `counselled that we should hunt  for Gollum. too late though it may seem. And since it seemed fit that Isildur's  heir should labour to  repair  Isildur's fault, I went  with  Gandalf  on  the  long and hopeless search.'      Then Gandalf told how they had explored the whole length of Wilderland, down even to the Mountains of Shadow and the fences of Mordor. `There we had rumour of him, and we guess  that he dwelt there long in the dark hills; but we never found him,  and  at last  I  despaired. And  then  in my despair  I
  490. thought again of a test that might make the finding of  Gollum unneeded. The ring  itself  might  tell if it were the One.  The memory  of  words  at the Council came back to me: words of Saruman, half-heeded at the time.  I heard them now clearly in my heart.      ` "The Nine, the Seven, and the Three," he said, "had each their proper gem. Not so the  One.  It  was round  and  unadorned,  as it were one of the lesser rings; but its maker set marks upon it that the skilled, maybe, could still see and read."      `What those  marks were he had not said. Who now would know? The maker. And Saruman? But great though his lore may be,  it  must have a source. What hand  save Sauron's ever  held this  thing, ere  it was  lost?  The hand  of Isildur alone.      `With that thought, I forsook the chase, and passed swiftly  to Gondor. In former days the members  of my order  had been  well received  there, but Saruman most of all. Often he had  been for long  the  guest of the Lords of the  City. Less welcome  did the Lord Denethor show me then than of old, and grudgingly he permitted me to search among his hoarded scrolls and books.      ' "If indeed you look only, as  you  say, for records of  ancient days, and the beginnings of the City,  read on! " he said.  "For to me what was is less dark than what is to come, and that  is  my care.  But unless you  have more  skill even  than Saruman,  who has  studied here  long, you  will find naught that  is not  well known to  me, who am  master of  the lore of  this City."      `So said Denethor.  And yet  there lie in his  hoards many records that few  now can read,  even of  the lore-masters, for their scripts and tongues have become dark  to later  men.  And  Boromir, there lies in  Minas  Tirith still, unread, I  guess,  by  any save Saruman  and  myself since the  kings failed, a scroll  that Isildur made himself. For Isildur did not  march away straight from the war in Mordor, as some have told the tale.'      'Some in the North, maybe,' Boromir broke in.  'All know in Gondor that he went  first  to Minas Anor and  dwelt a while  with his nephew  Meneldil, instructing him,  before he committed to him the  rule of the South Kingdom. In  that time he planted there the last sapling of  the White Tree in memory of his brother.'      `But in that time also he made this scroll,' said Gandalf; `and that is not remembered in Gondor, it would seem. For this scroll concerns  the Ring,
  491. and thus wrote Isildur therein:      The Great Ring shall go now to be an heirloom of the North Kingdom; but records  of  it  shall  be left  in  Gondor,  where also dwell the  heirs of Elendil, lest a time come when the memory of these great  matters shall grow dim.      `And after these words Isildur described the Ring, such as he found it.      It  was  hot  when  I first took it, hot as  a glede,  and my  hand was scorched, so that I doubt if ever again I shall be free of the pain  of  it. Yet even as I write it is cooled, and it seemeth to shrink, though it loseth neither  its  beauty nor its  shape. Already the  writing  upon it, which at first was as clear as red flame, fadeth and is now  only barely to be  read. It is fashioned in  an elven-script of  Eregion, for they have no letters in Mordor for such subtle work; but the language is unknown to me. I deem it to be  a tongue of the Black Land, since  it  is foul and uncouth. What evil it saith I do  not  know; but I trace here a copy  of it,  lest it fade  beyond recall. The Ring misseth,  maybe, the heat of Sauron's hand, which was black and yet burned like fire, and so Gil-galad was destroyed; and maybe were the gold made hot again, the writing would be refreshed. gut  for my part I will risk no hurt to this thing: of all the works of Sauron the only fair. It  is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain.      'When  I read these words, my quest was  ended. For  the traced writing was indeed as Isildur  guessed, in the tongue of Mordor and  the servants of the Tower. And what was said therein was already  known. For in the day that Sauron first put on  the One, Celebrimbor, maker of the  Three, was aware of him, and from afar he  heard him speak these words, and so his evil purposes were revealed.      `At once  I took my leave of  Denethor, but even as  I went northwards, messages came to me out of Lurien that Aragorn had passed that way, and that he had found the creature called Gollum. Therefore I went  first to meet him and hear his tale.  Into what deadly  perils  he had  gone alone I dared not guess.'      `There is little need  to tell  of them,' said Aragorn. `If a  man must needs walk in sight of the Black Gate, or tread the deadly flowers of Morgul Vale, then  perils he will have. I, too, despaired at  last,  and I began my homeward  journey.  And then, by fortune, I  came suddenly on what I sought: the marks of soft feet beside  a muddy pool. But now the trail was fresh and swift, and it  led  not to Mordor but  away. Along  the  skirts  of the Dead
  492. Marshes  I followed  it,  and  then I had him.  Lurking by a  stagnant mere, peering in  the water as the dark  eve  fell, I  caught  him, Gollum. He was covered  with green slime. He will never love me, I fear; for he bit me, and I  was not gentle. Nothing more did I ever get from his mouth than the marks of his teeth. I deemed it the worst part of  all  my journey, the road back, watching him day and night, making him walk before  me with a halter  on his neck, gagged, until he was tamed by lack of drink and food, driving him ever towards Mirkwood. I brought him there at last and gave him to the Elves, for we had agreed that this should  be  done; and I was  glad to  be  rid of his company, for he  stank. For my part I hope never to look upon him again; but Gandalf came and endured long speech with him.'      `Yes,  long  and weary,' said Gandalf, `but not without profit. For one thing, the  tale  he told of his loss agreed  with  that which Bilbo has now told openly  for  the  first time; but  that mattered little,  since  I  had already guessed it. But I  learned then first that Gollum's ring came out of the Great River nigh to the Gladden Fields. And I learned also  that he  had possessed  it long. Many lives of his small kind. The power of the ring  had lengthened his  years far beyond their span;  but that power only  the Great Rings wield.      `And if that is  not proof enough, Galdor, there is the other test that I spoke of. Upon this very ring  which you have here seen  held aloft, round and unadorned, the  letters that Isildur reported may  still be read, if one has the strength of will to set the golden thing in the fire a while. That I have done, and this I have read:      Ash  nazg durbatulyk, ush  nazg  gimbatul,  ash  nazg  thrakatulyk  agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.'      The change in  the wizard's voice  was  astounding. Suddenly it  became menacing,  powerful, harsh as stone.  A  shadow seemed to pass over the high sun,  and  the porch for  a moment grew  dark. All trembled,  and the  Elves stopped their ears.      `Never before has any voice dared to utter the  words of that tongue in Imladris,  Gandalf  the Grey,'  said  Elrond, as  the shadow passed  and the company breathed once more.      `And let us  hope that none  will  ever speak it  here again,' answered Gandalf. `Nonetheless I do not ask  your  pardon, Master Elrond. For if that tongue is not soon to be heard in every corner of the West, then let all put doubt aside  that  this thing is  indeed what the Wise  have  declared:  the
  493. treasure of the Enemy, fraught with all his malice;  and  in it lies a great part of his strength  of old. Out of the Black Years come the words that the Smiths of Eregion heard, and knew that they had been betrayed:      One Ring to  rule them all,  One  Ring to find  them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them.      `Know  also, my  friends, that I learned more yet from Gollum.  He  was loth to speak and his tale was unclear, but it  is beyond all doubt  that he went to Mordor, and  there all  that  he knew was forced from him. Thus  the Enemy knows now that the  One is found,  that it was  long in the Shire; and since his servants have pursued it  almost to our  door, he  soon will know, already he may know, even as I speak, that we have it here.'      All sat silent for a  while,  until  at length Boromir  spoke. `He is a small thing, you say, this Gollum? Small, but great in mischief. What became of him? To what doom did you put him?'      'He is in prison, but no worse,' said  Aragorn.  `He had suffered much. There is no doubt that he  was tormented, and the fear of Sauron  lies black on his heart. Still I for one am glad that he is safely kept by the watchful Elves of Mirkwood. His malice is great and gives him a strength hardly to be believed in one so lean and withered.  He could work much mischief still, if he were free. And I do not doubt that he was allowed to leave Mordor on some evil errand.'      `Alas!  alas!' cried Legolas,  and in  his  fair  elvish face there was great distress. `The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not  good, but only  here have I learned  how evil they may seem to this company. Smjagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped.'      'Escaped?' cried Aragorn. 'That is ill news indeed. We shall all rue it bitterly, I fear. How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?'      `Not through lack of  watchfulness,' said Legolas; `but perhaps through over-kindliness. And we fear that the prisoner had aid from others, and that more is known of our doings than we could wish. We guarded this creature day and  night, at Gandalf's  bidding,  much  though we wearied of the task. But Gandalf  bade us  hope still for his cure, and we had not the  heart to keep him ever in dungeons under the earth, where he would fall  back into his old black thoughts.'      'You were less tender  to me,'  said Gluin with  a flash of his eyes as old memories were stirred  of  his imprisonment in  the  deep places of  the Elven-king's halls.
  494.      'Now  come!' said Gandalf. `Pray do not interrupt, my good Gluin.  That was  a regrettable misunderstanding,  long set right. If  all the grievances that stand between Elves and  Dwarves are to  be brought up  here, we may as well abandon this Council.'      Gluin  rose and bowed, and Legolas  continued.  'In  the days  of  fair weather we led Gollum through the  woods; and there was a high tree standing alone far from the others which he liked to climb. Often we let him mount up to the highest branches, until he felt the free  wind; but we set a guard at the tree's foot. One day he refused to come down, and the guards had no mind to climb  after him: he had learned the trick of clinging to boughs with his feet as well as with his hands; so they sat by the tree far into the night.      'It was that very night of summer, yet moonless and starless, that Orcs came  on us at unawares. We drove them off after  some time;  they were many and  fierce, but they came from over  the mountains, and were unused  to the woods. When the battle was  over, we  found  that Gollum was  gone, and  his guards were slain  or taken. It then seemed plain to  us that the attack had been made for his rescue, and that he knew  of  it beforehand. How that  was contrived we cannot guess; but Gollum is cunning, and the spies of the Enemy are many. The dark things that were driven  out in  the year of the Dragon's fall have returned in greater  numbers, and Mirkwood is again an evil place, save where our realm is maintained.      `We have failed to  recapture Gollum.  We came on his trail among those of many Orcs, and it plunged deep into the Forest, going south. But ere long it escaped our  skill,  and  we  dared not  continue the hunt;  for we  were drawing nigh to Dol Guldur,  and that  is still a very evil place; we do not go that way.'      `Well,  well, he  is gone,' said Gandalf. 'We have no time  to seek for him again.  He must do what he will. But he may play a part yet that neither he nor Sauron have foreseen.      'And now  I will answer Galdor's other questions. What of Saruman? What are his counsels to us in this need? This tale I must tell in full, for only Elrond  has heard it yet, and that in brief, but it will bear on all that we must  resolve. It is the last  chapter in the Tale of the Ring, so far as it has yet gone.      'At the  end of June I was in the Shire, but a cloud of anxiety was  on my mind, and I rode to the southern borders of the little land; for I  had a foreboding  of some danger, still hidden  from  me but  drawing  near. There
  495. messages reached me telling me of war and defeat in Gondor, and when I heard of the Black Shadow  a chill smote my heart. But I found nothing  save a few fugitives  from  the South;  yet  it seemed to me that on them sat a fear of which they would not speak. I turned then east and north and journeyed along the Greenway; and  not  far from Bree  I came upon  a traveller sitting on a bank beside the road with his grazing  horse beside him. It was Radagast the Brown, who at one time dwelt at Rhosgobel,  near the borders of Mirkwood. He is one of my order, but I had not seen him for many a year.      ` "Gandalf! " he cried.  "I was seeking you. But I  am  a  stranger  in these parts. All I knew was that  you might  be found  in a wild region with the uncouth name of Shire."      ' "Your information was  correct," I said. "But do not put it that way, if you meet any of the inhabitants. You are near the  borders of  the  Shire now.  And what do you want with me?  It must  be pressing.  You were never a traveller, unless driven by great need."      ' "I have an urgent errand," he said. "My news is evil." Then he looked about him, as if  the hedges  might have ears. "Nazgyl,"  he whispered. "The Nine are abroad again. They  have  crossed the River secretly and are moving westward. They have taken the guise of riders in black."      'I knew then what I had dreaded without knowing it.      ` "The enemy must have some great need or purpose," said Radagast; "but what it is that makes him look to these distant and desolate parts, I cannot guess."      ` "What do you mean? " said I.      ` "I have been told that wherever they go the Riders ask for news  of a land called Shire."      ' "The Shire," I said; but my heart sank. For even the  Wise might fear to  withstand the  Nine,  when they  are gathered together under  their fell chieftain. A great  king and sorcerer he was  of  old,  and now  he wields a deadly fear. "Who told you, and who sent you? " I asked.      ' "Saruman the White,"  answered Radagast. "And  he told me to say that if you feel the need, he will help; but you must seek his aid at once, or it will be too late."      'And  that  message  brought  me  hope.  For Saruman the  White is  the greatest of my order. Radagast is, of course, a  worthy  Wizard, a master of shapes and changes  of hue;  and he has much  lore of herbs  and beasts, and
  496. birds are especially  his friends. But Saruman  has long studied the arts of the Enemy himself, and thus we have often been able to forestall him. It was by the devices of Saruman  that we drove him  from Dol  Guldur. It might  be that he had found some weapons that would drive back the Nine.      ' "I will go to Saruman," I said.      ' "Then  you must go  now," said  Radagast; "for I have  wasted time in looking  for you,  and  the  days  are running short. I was told to find you before Midsummer, and that is now  here. Even if you set out from this spot, you will hardly  reach him before the Nine discover the land that they seek. I myself  shall turn back at  once." And with that he mounted and would have ridden straight off.      ` "Stay a  moment! " I said. "We shall  need your help, and the help of all things that will give it. Send out messages  to all the beasts and birds that are  your friends.  Tell them to bring news  of anything that bears  on this matter to Saruman and Gandalf. Let messages be sent to Orthanc."      `  "I will do  that,"  he said, and rode off  as if the Nine were after him.      `I could not follow him then and  there. I had ridden  very far already that day, and I was as weary as my horse;  and I needed to consider matters. I stayed the  night in Bree, and decided that I had no time to return to the Shire. Never did I make a greater mistake!      `However,  I wrote a message  to Frodo,  and trusted  to  my friend the innkeeper to send it to him. I rode away at dawn; and I came at long last to the dwelling of Saruman. That is far south in Isengard,  in the  end  of the Misty  Mountains,  not far  from the Gap of Rohan. And Boromir will tell you that that is a great open vale that lies between the Misty Mountains and the northmost  foothills  of Ered  Nimrais, the White Mountains of his home. But Isengard is a  circle of  sheer rocks that enclose a valley as with  a wall, and in the midst of that valley is a tower of  stone called Orthanc.  It was not made by Saruman, but by the Men of N®menor long ago; and it is very tall and has many secrets; yet  it looks not to be  a work of craft. It cannot be reached save  by passing the circle of Isengard; and in that circle there is only one gate.      'Late one evening I came to the gate, like a great arch  in the wall of rock; and it was strongly guarded. But the keepers of the  gate  were on the watch for me and told me that Saruman awaited me. I rode under the arch, and the gate closed silently behind me, and suddenly I was afraid, though I knew
  497. no reason for it.      'But  I rode to the foot of Orthanc,  and came to the stair  of Saruman and there he met me and led me up to his high chamber. He wore a ring on his finger.      `  "So you have come, Gandalf," he said to me gravely; but in  his eyes there seemed to be a white light, as if a cold laughter was in his heart.      ` "Yes, I have come," I said. "I have  come  for your  aid, Saruman the White." And that title seemed to anger him.      '  "Have  you indeed, Gandalf the Grey! " he scoffed.  "For aid? It has seldom been  heard of that  Gandalf the Grey sought for  aid, one so cunning and  so wise, wandering about  the lands,  and concerning  himself in  every business, whether it belongs to him or not."      'I looked  at him and wondered.  "But if I am  not deceived,"  said  I, "things are now moving which will require the union of all our strength."      ' "That may be so," he said, "but the thought is late in coming to you. How long. I wonder, have  you concealed  from me, the head of the Council, a matter  of greatest  import? What brings you now from your lurking-place  in the Shire? "      ' "The Nine have come forth again," I answered. "They have crossed  the River. So Radagast said to me."      ` "Radagast  the Brown! " laughed  Saruman, and  he no longer concealed his scorn. "Radagast the Bird-tamer! Radagast the Simple! Radagast the Fool! Yet he had just the wit to play the part  that I set him. For you have come, and that was all the purpose of my message. And here you will stay,  Gandalf the Grey,  and rest  from  journeys.  For  I  am  Saruman the Wise,  Saruman Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colours! "      'I looked then and saw that his robes, which had seemed white, were not so, but  were woven of  all  colours.  and  if  he moved they shimmered  and changed hue so that the eye was bewildered.      ' "I liked white better," I said.      ' "White! "  he sneered. "It serves as a beginning. White  cloth may be dyed. The white page can be overwritten; and the white light can be broken."      ' "In which case it is  no longer white," said I. "And he that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom."      '  "You need  not  speak to me as to one of the fools that you take for friends," said he. "I have not brought  you hither  to be instructed by you, but to give you a choice."
  498.      'He  drew  himself up then and began to declaim, as if he were making a speech  long  rehearsed.  "The Elder Days  are gone.  The  Middle  Days  are passing. The Younger Days are  beginning. The time of the Elves is over, but our time is at hand: the world of Men, which  we must rule. But we must have power, power to order all things as  we  will, for that good  which only the Wise can see.      '  "And listen, Gandalf,  my old friend and  helper! "  he said, coming near and speaking now in a softer voice.  "I said we,  for we it may be,  if you will join with me. A new Power is rising. Against it the old  allies and policies will not avail us  at all. There is no hope left in Elves  or dying N®menor. This then  is  one  choice before you. before us. We may join  with that Power. It would be wise, Gandalf.  There is hope that way.  Its victory is at hand; and  there will be rich reward for those that  aided it.  As the Power grows, its proved friends will also  grow; and  the Wise, such  as you and I, may with patience come at last to direct its courses,  to control it. We  can bide  our time, we can keep our  thoughts in our  hearts,  deploring maybe  evils done by the way,  but  approving the high and ultimate purpose: Knowledge, Rule, Order; all the  things that  we have so far striven in vain to accomplish,  hindered rather than helped by  our weak  or  idle  friends. There need not be, there would not be, any  real change in our designs, only in our means."      ' "Saruman," I said, "I  have  heard  speeches of this kind before, but only in the mouths of emissaries sent from Mordor to deceive the ignorant. I cannot think that you brought me so far only to weary my ears."      'He looked at me sidelong, and paused a while considering. "Well, I see that this wise course  does  not commend itself to you,"  he said. "Not yet? Not if some better way can be contrived? "      `He came and laid his long hand on my arm.  "And why not, Gandalf? " he whispered. "Why not? The Ruling Ring? If  we could  command that,  then  the Power would pass to us. That is in truth why I brought  you here. For I have many eyes  in my service, and  I  believe that  you know where this precious thing now lies. Is it not so? Or why do the Nine ask for the Shire, and what is your  business there? " As he said this a lust which he could not conceal shone suddenly in his eyes.      ' "Saruman," I  said, standing away from him, "only one hand at  a time can wield the One, and you know that well, so do not trouble to say we!  But I would not give it, nay, I would not give even news of it to you, now  that
  499. I  learn  your  mind. You  were head of  the Council, but you have  unmasked yourself at last. Well, the choices are, it seems, to  submit to  Sauron, or to yourself. I will take neither. Have you others to offer? "      'He was cold now and perilous. "Yes," he said. "I did not expect you to show wisdom, even in your own behalf; but I gave you the chance of aiding me willingly. and so saving yourself much trouble and pain. The third choice is to stay here, until the end."      ' "Until what end? "      ' "Until you reveal to me where the One may be found. I may find  means to  persuade you. Or until  it is found in your despite, and  the Ruler  has time to turn to lighter matters:  to devise, say,  a  fitting reward for the hindrance and insolence of Gandalf the Grey."      ' "That  may not prove to be one of the lighter matters,"  said  I.  He laughed at me, for my words were empty, and he knew it.      `They took me and they set me alone  on the pinnacle of Orthanc, in the place  where Saruman was accustomed to watch the stars.  There is no descent save  by a narrow stair of many  thousand steps, and  the valley below seems far away. I looked  on it and saw that, whereas it  had once been  green and fair, it was now filled with pits and forges. Wolves and orcs were housed in Isengard,  for Saruman was mustering a  great force  on his  own account, in rivalry of Sauron  and  not  in his service yet. Over  all his works  a dark smoke hung  and wrapped itself about the sides  of Orthanc. I stood alone on an island  in the clouds; and I had  no  chance  of escape, and my days were bitter. I was pierced with cold, and I  had but little room in which to pace to and fro, brooding on the coming of the Riders to the North.      `That the Nine had indeed arisen I felt  assured, apart from  the words of Saruman which might  be  lies.  Long ere I came to  Isengard I had  heard tidings by the way that could not be mistaken. Fear was ever in my heart for my friends in the Shire; but still I had some  hope.  I hoped that Frodo had set forth at once, as my letter had urged, and that he had reached Rivendell before  the deadly pursuit  began. And  both  my  fear and  my  hope  proved ill-founded. For my  hope  was founded on a fat man in Bree; and my fear was founded on the cunning of Sauron. But  fat men  who sell ale have many calls to answer; and the power of  Sauron is still less than fear makes it. But in the circle of Isengard, trapped and alone, it was not easy to think that the hunters before whom all have fled or fallen would falter  in  the  Shire far away.'
  500.      `I saw you!' cried Frodo. `You were walking backwards and forwards. The moon shone in your hair.'      Gandalf paused astonished and looked at him. 'It was only a dream' said Frodo, `but it suddenly came back to me. I had  quite  forgotten it. It came some time ago; after I left the Shire, I think.'      `Then it was  late in coming,' said Gandalf, 'as you will see. I was in an evil plight. And those who know me will agree that I have seldom  been in such need, and  do not bear such  misfortune  well. Gandalf the  Grey caught like a fly in a spider's treacherous web! Yet  even  the most subtle spiders may leave a weak thread.      `At first I  feared,  as Saruman  no doubt intended,  that Radagast had also fallen. Yet I  had caught no  hint of anything wrong in his voice or in his eye at our meeting. If I had, I should never have gone to Isengard, or I should  have gone more warily. So Saruman guessed, and he had concealed  his mind and deceived his messenger. It would have been  useless in  any case to try and  win over  the honest Radagast  to  treachery. He sought me  in good faith, and so persuaded me.      `That  was the  undoing of Saruman's plot.  For Radagast knew no reason why  he should not do as I asked; and he rode away towards Mirkwood where he had many friends of old. And  the Eagles of the Mountains went far and wide, and they saw many things: the gathering of wolves and the mustering of Orcs; and  the Nine Riders going hither and thither in the  lands; and  they heard news  of the  escape  of  Gollum.  And they sent a messenger to  bring these tidings to me.      `So it  was  that when summer  waned, there came a night of  moon,  and Gwaihir the Windlord,  swiftest of  the  Great Eagles,  came unlooked-for to Orthanc; and he found me standing  on the pinnacle. Then I  spoke to him and he bore me away, before Saruman was aware.  I was far from Isengard, ere the wolves and orcs issued from the gate to pursue me.      ` "How far can you bear me? " I said to Gwaihir.      ` "Many  leagues," said he,  "but not to  the ends of the earth.  I was sent to bear tidings not burdens."      ` "Then I must have a steed on land," I said, "and a steed surpassingly swift, for I have never had such need of haste before."      ` "Then I will bear you to Edoras, where the Lord  of Rohan sits in his halls," he said; "for that  is not very far off." And I was glad, for in the
  501. Riddermark of Rohan the  Rohirrim, the Horse-lords, dwell, and  there are no horses  like  those that  are  bred in  that  great vale  between the  Misty Mountains and the White.      ` "Are the Men of  Rohan still to be trusted, do you think? " I said to Gwaihir, for the treason of Saruman had shaken my faith.      ` "They pay a tribute of horses," he answered, "and send many yearly to Mordor,  or  so it is said; but they are  not  yet under the  yoke.  But  if Saruman  has  become evil,  as  you  say, then  their  doom  cannot  be long delayed."      `He  set  me down  in  the  land of  Rohan ere  dawn;  and  now I  have lengthened my tale over long. The  rest must be more brief. In Rohan I found evil already at work:  the lies  of Saruman; and the king  of the land would not  listen to my warnings. He bade me take a horse and be gone; and I chose one much to my liking. but little to his. I took the best horse in his land, and I have never seen the like of him.'      'Then  he must be a noble beast indeed,' said Aragorn; 'and  it grieves me more than many tidings that might seem worse to  learn that Sauron levies such tribute. It was not so when last I was in that land.'      `Nor is it now, I  will swear,' said Boromir.  `It  is a lie that comes from the Enemy.  I  know  the Men of Rohan;  true  and  valiant, our allies, dwelling still in the lands that we gave them long ago.'      `The  shadow  of  Mordor  lies  on  distant lands,'  answered  Aragorn. 'Saruman has fallen under  it.  Rohan is beset. Who knows what you will find there, if ever you return?'      `Not this at least.' said Boromir, 'that they will buy their lives with horses. They  love  their horses next  to their kin. And not without reason, for the horses of the Riddermark come from the fields of the North, far from the Shadow. and their race, as  that of their masters, is descended from the free days of old.'      'True indeed!'  said Gandalf. `And there is  one among them that  might have been foaled in the morning of the world. The horses of  the Nine cannot vie with him; tireless,  swift as the  flowing  wind. Shadowfax  they called him. By day  his coat glistens like silver; and by night it is like a shade, and  he  passes unseen. Light  is his footfall!  Never  before had  any  man mounted him, but I took him and I tamed him, and so speedily he bore me that I  reached the Shire when  Frodo  was on the  Barrow-downs, though I set out from Rohan only when he set out from Hobbiton.
  502.      'But fear grew in me as I rode. Ever as I came north I heard tidings of the Riders, and though I gained  on them day by day,  they were  ever before me.  They had divided their  forces, I learned: some remained on the eastern borders,  not far  from the Greenway. and  some  invaded the Shire  from the south.  I came  to  Hobbiton  and Frodo  had gone; but I had words with  old Gamgee.  Many  words and  few to  the  point. He  had much to  say about the shortcomings of the new owners of Bag End.      ` "I can't abide changes," said he, "not  at my time of life, and least of all changes  for  the worst." "Changes for the  worst," he repeated  many times.      ' "Worst is a bad word," I said to him, "and I hope you do not  live to see it." But amidst his talk I gathered at last that Frodo had left Hobbiton less than a week before, and that a  black horseman had come to the Hill the same  evening. Then I rode  on  in  fear. I came to Buckland and found it in uproar, as busy as a hive of ants that has been stirred with a stick. I came to  the house at  Crickhollow, and  it was broken open and empty; but on the threshold there lay a  cloak  that had  been Frodo's. Then for a while  hope left me, and I did not wait  to gather news, or I might have been comforted; but I rode on the trail of the Riders. It was  hard to  follow, for  it went many ways, and  I was at a loss. But  it  seemed  to me that one  or two had ridden towards Bree; and that way I went, for I thought  of words that might be said to the innkeeper.      ' "Butterbur they call him," thought I. "If this delay was his fault, I will melt  all the butter in him. I  will roast the  old  fool  over a  slow fire."  He expected no  less, and when he saw  my face he fell down flat and began to melt on the spot.'      `What did you  do  to  him?' cried  Frodo in alarm. 'He was really very kind to us and did all that he could.'      Gandalf laughed.  'Don't be afraid!' he  said. `I  did not bite,  and I barked very little. So  overjoyed was I by  the news that I got out of  him, when he stopped  quaking, that I embraced  the old fellow. How it happened I could  not  then  guess, but I  learned  that you had been in Bree the night before, and had gone off that morning with Strider.      ` "Strider! " I cried, shouting for joy.      `  "Yes,  sir, I am afraid so, sir," said Butterbur, mistaking me.  "He got  at them,  in spite of all that I could do, and  they took  up with him. They behaved very queer all the time they were here: wilful, you might say."
  503.      ` "Ass! Fool! Thrice worthy and beloved Barliman!  " said I. "It's  the best news I have had since midsummer: it's worth a gold piece at  the least. May  your  beer be  laid under an enchantment of surpassing  excellence  for seven years! " said  I. "Now I can take a night's  rest, the first  since  I have forgotten when."      `So I  stayed  there that  night, wondering much what had become of the Riders; for only of two had there yet been any news in Bree, it seemed.  But in the night we heard more. Five at least came from the west, and they threw down  the gates  and passed  through Bree  like  a  howling  wind;  and  the Bree-folk are still shivering and  expecting the end of the world. I got  up before dawn and went after them.      'I do not  know, but it seems clear  to me that this is  what happened. Their  Captain remained  in secret away  south of Bree, while two rode ahead through the village,  and four more  invaded the Shire. But when these  were foiled  in Bree  and  at Crickhollow, they  returned to their  Captain  with tidings, and so left the Road unguarded for  a while, except by their spies. The Captain then sent some eastward straight across country, and he  himself with the rest rode along the Road in great wrath.      'I galloped to Weathertop like  a gale, and I reached it before sundown on  my  second day from  Bree-and they were there before me.  They drew away from  me, for  they  felt the coming of my anger and they dared not  face it while the Sun  was  in the sky.  But they closed  round at  night, and I was besieged on the hill-top, in the old ring of Amon Syl. I was hard  put to it indeed:  such light and flame  cannot have been seen on Weathertop since the war-beacons of old.      `At sunrise I  escaped and fled towards the north. I  could not hope to do  more. It was impossible to  find you, Frodo, in  the wilderness, and  it would have been folly  to try  with all the Nine  at  my heels. So I  had to trust  to Aragorn.  But I  hoped  to draw  some  of them  off, and yet reach Rivendell ahead of you  and send out help. Four Riders did indeed follow me, but they turned back  after a  while and made  for the Ford,  it seems. That helped a  little,  for there  were only five, not  nine,  when your camp was attacked.      'I  reached here at last  by  a long  hard  road,  up the Hoarwell  and through the  Ettenmoors, and down from the north. It took me nearly fourteen days  from  Weathertop,  for  I  could  not  ride  among  the rocks  of  the
  504. troll-fells, and  Shadowfax departed.  I sent  him back to his master; but a great friendship has grown between us, and if I have need he will come at my call.  But so it  was  that I  came to Rivendell  only three days before the Ring, and news of  its peril had already been brought here-which proved well indeed.      `And  that, Frodo, is  the end of my account. May Elrond and the others forgive  the length of  it.  But such a thing has not happened  before, that Gandalf broke tryst and did not come  when  he  promised. An account to  the Ring-bearer of so strange an event was required, I think.      'Well, the  Tale is now  told, from first to last. Here we all are, and here is the Ring. But we have not yet come any  nearer to our  purpose. What shall we do with it?'      There was silence. At last Elrond spoke again.      `This  is grievous news concerning Saruman,' he  said; `for  we trusted him and he  is deep in  all our counsels. It is perilous to study too deeply the arts of the Enemy, for  good  or  for ill. But such falls and betrayals, alas, have happened before. Of  the tales that  we have heard  this  day the tale  of  Frodo was most strange to me. I have known few hobbits, save Bilbo here; and it seems to me that he is  perhaps  not so alone and singular as I had thought him. The world has changed much since I last was on the westward roads.      `The  Barrow-wights we know by  many names; and of the Old Forest  many tales have been told: all that now remains is but an outlier of its northern march. Time was when a squirrel could go from tree to tree from what  is now the  Shire to Dunland west of Isengard. In those lands I journeyed once, and many things wild and strange I knew. But I had forgotten Bombadil, if indeed this is still the same that walked the woods and  hills long  ago, and  even then was older than the old. That was not then his name. Iarwain Ben-adar we called  him,  oldest and fatherless. But many another name he has since been given by other folk:  Forn by the Dwarves,  Orald by Northern Men, and other names beside. He is a strange creature, but maybe I should have summoned him to our Council.'      `He would not have come,' said Gandalf.      `Could  we not still send messages to him  and obtain his help?'  asked
  505. Erestor. `It seems that he has a power even over the Ring.'      `No, I should not put  it so,'  said Gandalf. `Say rather that the Ring has no power over him. He is his own master.  But he  cannot alter  the Ring itself,  nor break its  power over  others.  And now he is withdrawn  into a little  land,  within  bounds that  he  has set, though none  can  see them, waiting perhaps for a change of days, and he will not step beyond them.'      `But within those bounds nothing seems to  dismay him,'  said  Erestor. `Would he not take the Ring and keep it there, for ever harmless?'      `No,' said Gandalf, `not willingly. He might  do so,  if all  the  free folk of the world begged  him, but he would not understand the need. And  if he were given  the Ring,  he would soon  forget  it, or most likely throw it away. Such  things  have  no hold on his mind. He  would  be  a  most unsafe guardian; and that alone is answer enough.'      `But in any case,' said Glorfindel, `to send the Ring to him would only postpone the day of evil. He  is far away. We could not now take  it back to him, unguessed, unmarked by any spy.  And even if we could, soon or late the Lord of  the Rings would learn of  its hiding place and  would bend  all his power towards it. Could that power be defied by Bombadil alone? I think not. I think that in the end, if all  else is conquered, Bombadil will fall, Last as he was First; and then Night will come.'      `I know little of Iarwain save the name,' said Galdor; `but Glorfindel, I think, is right. Power to defy our Enemy is not in him, unless  such power is  in the earth itself. And yet we see that Sauron  can torture and destroy the very hills. What power still remains lies with us,  here in Imladris, or with Cirdan at the Havens, or in Lurien. But have they the strength, have we here the strength to withstand the Enemy, the  coming of Sauron at the last, when all else is overthrown?'      `I have not the strength,' said Elrond; `neither have they.'      `Then if the  Ring cannot be  kept  from him for ever by strength' said Glorfindel, `two things only remain  for  us to attempt: to send it over the Sea, or to destroy it.'      `But Gandalf has revealed to us that  we cannot destroy it by any craft that we here possess,' said Elrond. `And they who dwell beyond the Sea would not receive it: for good or ill it belongs to Middle-earth; it is for us who still dwell here to deal with it.'      'Then, said Glorfindel, 'let us cast it into the deeps, and so make the lies of Saruman come true. For it is clear now that  even at the Council his
  506. feet were already on a crooked path. He knew that the Ring  was not lost for ever, but wished us to think so; for  he began to lust  for  it for himself. Yet oft in lies truth is hidden: in the Sea it would be safe.'      `Not safe  for ever,' said Gandalf. `There are many things in the  deep waters; and seas and lands may  change. And it is not our part here to  take thought only for a  season, or for a few lives  of Men, or for a passing age of the world.  We should seek a final  end of this menace, even if we do not hope to make one.'      'And that we shall not find on the roads to the  Sea,' said Galdor. 'If the  return to Iarwain be  thought too dangerous, then  flight to the S‚a is now fraught with gravest peril. My heart tells me that Sauron will expect us to take the western way, when he learns what has befallen. He soon will. The Nine have been unhorsed indeed but that is but a respite, ere they find  new steeds and  swifter. Only the waning might of Gondor stands  now between him and a march  in power along the  coasts into  the  North;  and if  he comes, assailing the White Towers and the  Havens, hereafter the Elves may  have no escape from the lengthening shadows of Middle-earth.'      'Long yet will that march be delayed,' said Boromir. 'Gondor wanes, you say.  But  Gondor stands,  and even the end  of its strength  is  still very strong.'      'And yet its vigilance can no longer keep back  the Nine,' said Galdor. 'And other roads he may find that Gondor does not guard.'      'Then,' said Erestor, `there are but two courses, as Glorfindel already has declared:  to hide  the Ring  for ever;  or to  unmake it.  But both are beyond our power. Who will read this riddle for us?'      'None here can do so,' said Elrond gravely. `At least none can foretell what will come to pass, if we take this road or that. But it seems to me now clear which is the road that  we must take. The westward road seems easiest. Therefore it must  be shunned. It will be watched. Too  often the Elves have fled that way. Now at this last we must take a hard road, a road unforeseen. There  lies our hope, if hope it be. To walk into  peril-to  Mordor. We must send the Ring to the Fire.'      Silence fell again. Frodo, even in that fair house,  looking out upon a sunlit valley filled with the noise of clear waters, felt a dead darkness in his heart. Boromir  stirred, and Frodo looked at him. He  was fingering  his great horn and frowning. At length he spoke.      'I do not understand all this,' he said. `Saruman is a traitor, but did
  507. he not have  a  glimpse of  wisdom?  Why  do  you speak  ever of  hiding and destroying? Why should we not think  that the  Great Ring  has come into our hands to serve us in the very  hour of need? Wielding  it the Free  Lords of the Free may surely defeat the Enemy. That is what he most fears, I deem.      'The  Men of Gondor are valiant, and they  will never  submit; but they may be  beaten down. Valour needs first strength, and then a weapon. Let the Ring be  your  weapon, if it has such power as you say. Take it and go forth to victory!'      'Alas, no,' said  Elrond. 'We cannot use  the Ruling  Ring. That we now know  too well.  It belongs to  Sauron and was  made by  him  alone,  and is altogether evil. Its strength, Boromir, is too great for anyone  to wield at will, save only those who have already a great power  of their own.  But for them it holds an  even deadlier peril.  The very  desire of it  corrupts the heart. Consider  Saruman. If any of the Wise should with this Ring overthrow the  Lord  of Mordor,  using  his own arts,  he  would then  set  himself on Sauron's throne, and yet another Dark Lord would appear. And that is another reason  why the  Ring should be destroyed: as long as it is in the  world it will be a danger  even to  the Wise. For nothing  is evil in the  beginning. Even Sauron was not so. I fear to  take the Ring to hide it. I will not take the Ring to wield it.'      `Nor I,' said Gandalf.      Boromir looked at  them doubtfully,  but he bowed his head. `So be it,' he said. `Then in Gondor we must trust  to  such weapons as we have.  And at the least, while the Wise ones guard this Ring, we will fight on. Mayhap the Sword-that-was-Broken may still stem the tide --  if the hand that wields it has inherited not an heirloom only, but the sinews of the Kings of Men.'      `Who can tell?' said Aragorn. `But we will put it to the test one day.'      `May the  day not be too long delayed,' said Boromir. 'For though  I do not ask for aid, we need it. It would comfort  us to know that others fought also with all the means that they have.'      `Then  be comforted,'  said  Elrond.  `For  there are  other powers and realms that  you know not, and  they are hidden from you.  Anduin  the Great flows past many shores, ere it comes to Argonath and the Gates of Gondor.'      'Still it might be  well for all,' said Gluin the Dwarf,  'if all these strengths were joined, and  the powers  of each  were used in  league. Other rings there may be, less treacherous, that might be  used in  our need.  The Seven are lost  to us -- if Balin has not found the ring of Thrur which  was
  508. the last; naught has been heard of it since Thrur  perished in Moria. Indeed I  may  now reveal that it was partly in  hope to find that  ring that Balin went away.'      `Balin will find no  ring in  Moria,'  said  Gandalf. `Thrur gave it to Thrbin his  son,  but not Thrbin to Thorin. It was taken  with  torment from Thrbin in the dungeons of Dol Guldur. I came too late.'      'Ah, alas!' cried Gluin.  'When will  the day come of our  revenge? But still there are the Three. What of the Three Rings of the Elves? Very mighty Rings, it is said. Do not the Elf-lords keep them? Yet they too were made by the Dark  Lord long ago. Are  they idle? I see Elf-lords here. Will they not say?'      The  Elves returned  no answer.  `Did you not  hear  me,  Gluin?'  said Elrond.  `The Three were not made by Sauron, nor did he ever touch them. But of them it  is not permitted to speak. So much only in this' hour of doubt I may now say. They are not idle. But they were  not made as weapons of war or conquest:  that is  not  their power.  Those who  made  them did  not desire strength or  domination or  hoarded wealth, but understanding,  making,  and healing,  to preserve  all  things  unstained.  These things  the  Elves  of Middle-earth have in  some measure gained,  though with sorrow. But all that has  been wrought  by those who wield the Three will turn  to their undoing, and their minds and hearts will become revealed to Sauron, if he regains the One. It would be better if the Three had never been. That is his purpose.'      `But what then would happen, if the Ruling Ring  were  destroyed as you counsel?' asked Gluin.      'We know not for certain,' answered  Elrond sadly. `Some hope that  the Three Rings,  which Sauron  has never touched,  would  then become free, and their  rulers might heal  the  hurts of  the world that he has wrought.  But maybe  when the One has gone, the Three will fail, and many fair things will fade and be forgotten. That is my belief.'      `Yet all  the Elves are willing to endure this chance,' said Glorfindel 'if by it the power of Sauron may be broken, and the fear of his dominion be taken away for ever.'      'Thus we return once more to the destroying of the Ring,' said Erestor, `and  yet we come  no  nearer. What  strength have we for the finding of the Fire in which  it was made? That  is  the path of despair. Of folly I  would say, if the long wisdom of Elrond did not forbid me.'      'Despair, or folly?' said Gandalf.  `It is not  despair, for despair is
  509. only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not.  It is wisdom to recognize  necessity,  when all  other courses have been  weighed, though as folly it may appear to those who cling to false hope. Well, let folly be our cloak, a veil before the eyes of the  Enemy! For he is very wise, and weighs all  things to a nicety in  the scales  of his malice. But the only  measure that he knows is desire, desire for power; and so he judges all hearts. Into his  heart  the thought will not enter that any will refuse it, that  having the Ring we may seek to destroy it. If we seek this, we shall put him out of reckoning.'      'At  least  for a while,' said  Elrond. `The road must  be trod, but it will  be very hard. And neither strength nor  wisdom will  carry us far upon it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.'      'Very  well,  very well,  Master Elrond!'  said Bilbo suddenly. 'Say no more! It  is plain enough  what you are  pointing at. Bilbo the silly hobbit started this  affair, and Bilbo had better finish it, or himself. I was very comfortable here, and getting  on  with my  book.  If you want to know, I am just  writing  an  ending  for it.  I had  thought of putting: and  he lived happily ever afterwards  to the end of  his days.  It is a  good ending, and none the worse for having been used before. Now  I shall have to alter that: it does not look  like coming true;  and anyway there will evidently have to be  several  more chapters, if  I live to  write  them.  It  is  a frightful nuisance. When ought I to start?      ' Boromir  looked  in surprise  at Bilbo, but the laughter died  on his lips  when he saw that  all the others regarded  the  old  hobbit with grave respect. Only Gluin smiled, but his smile came from old memories.      `Of course,  my dear Bilbo,' said Gandalf. `If  you had  really started this affair,  you might be expected to finish  it. But you know  well enough now that starting is too great a claim for  any, and that only  a small part is played in  great deeds by any hero. You need not bow! Though the word was meant, and we do not doubt that under jest you  are  making a valiant offer. But one beyond your strength, Bilbo. You cannot take this thing back. It has passed on. If you need my advice any longer, I should say that your  part is ended,  unless  as a  recorder.  Finish  your book,  and  leave  the  ending unaltered! There is still hope for it. But get ready to write a sequel, when they come back.'
  510.      Bilbo laughed. `I have never known you give me pleasant advice before.' he said.  `As  all your  unpleasant  advice has been  good, I wonder if this advice is not  bad. Still, I don't suppose I have the strength  or luck left to deal with the Ring. It has  grown, and I have  not.  But tell me: what do you mean by they?'      `The messengers who are sent with the Ring.'      `Exactly! And who are  they to be?  That seems to me  what this Council has to decide, and all  that  it has to decide. Elves  may  thrive on speech alone, and Dwarves endure great weariness;  but I am only an old hobbit, and I miss  my meal at noon. Can't you think of some  names  now?  Or put it off till after dinner?'      No one answered. The  noon-bell rang. Still no one spoke. Frodo glanced at all the faces, but they were not  turned to him. All the Council sat with downcast eyes,  as if in deep  thought. A great dread fell on him,  as if he was  awaiting  the pronouncement of some doom that he had long foreseen  and vainly  hoped might after all never be spoken.  An  overwhelming longing  to rest and remain at peace by Bilbo's side in Rivendell filled all  his heart. At last with an effort  he spoke, and wondered to hear his  own words, as if some other will was using his small voice.      `I will take the Ring,' he said, `though I do not know the way.'      Elrond raised  his eyes and looked  at  him, and Frodo felt  his  heart pierced by the sudden keenness  of the glance. `If  I understand aright  all that I  have heard,' he said, `I think that this task  is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no  one will. This is the hour  of the Shire-folk, when they arise from  their quiet fields to shake the towers and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise  could  have foreseen it? Or, if they are wise, why  should they expect  to know it,  until  the hour  has struck?      `But it is a heavy burden. So heavy that  none could lay it on another. I do not lay it  on  you. But  if you  take it freely, I  will say that your choice  is right;  and though all the mighty elf-friends of  old, Hador, and H®rin, and T®rin, and Beren himself were assembled together your seat should be among them.'      `But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?' cried Sam, unable to contain himself any longer, and jumping up from the corner where he had been quietly sitting on the floor.
  511.      `No indeed!'  said Elrond, turning towards  him with a smile.  `You  at least shall go with him. It  is  hardly  possible to separate  you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.'      Sam sat  down, blushing and muttering.  `A nice  pickle we  have landed ourselves in, Mr. Frodo!' he said, shaking his head.
  512.  
  513.  
  514.  
  515. Chapter 3. The Ring Goes South
  516.  
  517.  
  518.      Later that day the hobbits held a meeting of their own in Bilbo's room. Merry  and Pippin were indignant when they heard that Sam had crept into the Council, and had been chosen as Frodo's companion.      `It's most  unfair,' said  Pippin. `Instead of  throwing  him out,  and clapping him in chains, Elrond goes and rewards him for his cheek!'      `Rewards!'  said Frodo.  'I can't imagine a more severe punishment. You are not  thinking what  you  are saying:  condemned  to  go on this hopeless journey, a  reward? Yesterday I dreamed that my  task  was done, and I could rest here, a long while, perhaps for good.'      'I don't wonder,' said Merry, 'and I wish you could. But we are envying Sam, not you. If you have to go, then it will be  a punishment for any of us to  be left behind, even in Rivendell. We have  come a long way with you and been through some stiff times. We want to go on.'      `That's  what  I  meant,'  said  Pippin. `We  hobbits  ought  to  stick together, and  we will. I shall go,  unless they chain me up.  There must be someone with intelligence in the party.'      'Then  you certainly will not  be chosen, Peregrin Took!' said Gandalf, looking in through  the window, which was  near the ground. `But you are all worrying yourselves unnecessarily. Nothing is decided yet.'      `Nothing  decided!' cried Pippin. 'Then what  were  you  all doing? You were shut up for hours.'      "Talking,' said Bilbo. `There was a deal  of  talk, and everyone had an eye-opener. Even old Gandalf.  I think Legolas's  bit  of news  about Gollum caught even him on the hop, though he passed it off.'      `You were wrong,'  said Gandalf. 'You  were  inattentive. I had already heard of it from Gwaihir. If you want to know, the only real eye-openers, as you put  it,  were you  and Frodo;  and  I was  the  only  one  that was not surprised.'      `Well,  anyway,'  said Bilbo, 'nothing was decided beyond choosing poor Frodo  and Sam. I was  afraid all  the time that it might come to that, if I was let off. But if you ask me, Elrond will send out a fair number, when the reports come in. Have they started yet, Gandalf?'      'Yes,' said the wizard. `Some of the scouts have been sent out already.
  519. More will go  tomorrow.  Elrond is sending Elves, and they will get in touch with the Rangers, and maybe  with  Thranduil's folk in Mirkwood. And Aragorn has gone with Elrond's  sons. We shall have to scour the lands all round for many long  leagues before any  move is  made. So cheer  up, Frodo! You  will probably make quite a long stay here.'      'Ah!' said  Sam gloomily.  'We'll  just wait long enough for  winter to come.'      'That can't be  helped,' said Bilbo.  'It's your fault partly, Frodo my lad: insisting on waiting  for my  birthday. A  funny way of honouring it, I can't help thinking. Not the day I should have chosen for letting the S.-B.s into Bag End. But there it is: you can't wait now fill spring; and you can't go till the reports come back.      When winter first begins to bite      and stones crack in the frosty night,      when pools are black and trees are bare,      'tis evil in the Wild to fare.      But that I am afraid will be just your luck.'      'I am  afraid  it  will,' said Gandalf. 'We  can't start until  we have found out about the Riders.'      `I thought they were all destroyed in the flood,' said Merry.      'You cannot destroy Ringwraiths like that,' said Gandalf. `The power of their master  is in them, and  they stand or fall by  him. We hope that they were all unhorsed and unmasked, and so made for a while less dangerous;  but we must find out for certain. In the meantime you should try and forget your troubles, Frodo. I do not know if I can do anything to  help you; but I will whisper this in your ears. Someone said that intelligence would be needed in the party. He was right. I think I shall come with you.'      So great was Frodo's delight at this announcement that Gandalf left the window-sill, where he  had been sitting, and took off his hat and  bowed. 'I only said I think I shall come. Do not count on anything yet. In this matter Elrond will have much to say, and your friend the Strider. Which reminds me, I want to see Elrond. I must be off.'      `How long  do you  think I  shall have here?' said  Frodo to Bilbo when Gandalf had gone.      `Oh,  I don't know. I can't count  days in Rivendell,' said Bilbo. 'But quite long, I should think. We can have many a good talk. What about helping
  520. me with my book, and making a  start  on the next?  Have you  thought of  an ending?'      'Yes, several, and all are dark and unpleasant,' said Frodo.      'Oh, that won't do!' said Bilbo. `Books ought to have good endings. How would this do:  and they all  settled  down and  lived together happily ever after?'      `It will do well, if it ever comes to that,' said Frodo.      'Ah!' said Sam. 'And where will they live? That's what I often wonder.'      For a while the hobbits continued to talk and think of the past journey and of the perils  that  lay ahead; but such  was the  virtue of the land of Rivendell that soon all  fear  and anxiety was lifted  from their minds. The future, good or  ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have  any  power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every  meal,  and in every word and song.      So the days slipped away, as  each morning dawned  bright and fair, and each evening followed cool and clear. But autumn was waning fast; slowly the golden light  faded to pale silver, and the  lingering leaves fell  from the naked trees. A wind began to  blow  chill  from  the  Misty Mountains to the east. The Hunter's Moon waxed round in the  night sky, and put to flight all the  lesser stars. But low  in the South one star shone red. Every night, as the  Moon  waned  again,  it shone brighter and brighter. Frodo could see it from his window, deep in the heavens burning like a watchful eye that glared above the trees on the brink of the valley.      The hobbits had been nearly  two  months  in the House  of  Elrond, and November  had  gone by  with the  last  shreds  of autumn, and  December was passing, when the scouts  began to  return. Some  had  gone north beyond the springs of the Hoarwell into the Ettenmoors;  and others had gone west,  and with the help of Aragorn and the Rangers had searched the lands far down the Greyflood, as far as Tharbad, where the old North Road crossed  the river by a ruined town. Many had gone east and south; and some  of these had  crossed the Mountains and entered Mirkwood, while others had climbed the pass at the source of the Gladden River, and had come  down into Wilderland and over the Gladden  Fields  and so at  length had reached the old  home  of Radagast at Rhosgobel. Radagast was not there; and they had  returned over the high pass that was called the Dimrill Stair. The sons of Elrond, Elladan and  Elrohir, were the  last  to return;  they had  made a great journey, passing down the
  521. Silverlode into  a strange country, but of their errand they would not speak to any save to Elrond.      In no region had the messengers discovered any signs or tidings  of the Riders  or other  servants of the  Enemy. Even from the Eagles of the  Misty Mountains they had learned no fresh news. Nothing had been seen  or heard of Gollum; but the wild wolves were still gathering, and were hunting again far up the Great River. Three of the black horses had been found at once drowned in  the flooded Ford.  On  the  rocks  of  the  rapids  below  it  searchers discovered the bodies of five more, and also a long black cloak, slashed and tattered. Of the Black Riders no other trace was to be seen, and nowhere was their presence to be felt. It seemed that they had vanished from the North.      'Eight  out of the Nine are  accounted for at least,' said Gandalf. 'It is  rash  to  be  too  sure,  yet I think that  we  may hope  now  that  the Ringwraiths  were  scattered,  and  have been obliged to return as best they could to their Master in Mordor, empty and shapeless.      `If that  is so,  it will be some time before they  can begin the  hunt again. Of course the Enemy has other servants, but they will have to journey all the way to  the borders of Rivendell before they can pick  up our trail. And  if we are  careful that  will be  hard to find.  But  we  must delay no longer.'      Elrond  summoned the hobbits to him.  He looked gravely  at Frodo. 'The time has  come,' he said.  `If the Ring is to set out, it  must go soon. But those who go with it must  not  count on their  errand being aided by war or force.  They  must pass into the domain of  the Enemy far from  aid. Do  you still hold to your word, Frodo, that you will be the Ring-bearer?'      'I do,' said Frodo. `I will go with Sam.'      `Then  I cannot help you  much, not even with counsel,' said Elrond. `I can foresee very little of your road; and how your task is to be achieved  I do not know. The  Shadow has  crept now  to the  feet  of the Mountains, and draws nigh even  to  the  borders of Greyflood; and  under the Shadow all is dark to me. You will meet many foes, some open, and some disguised; and  you may find friends upon your way when you  least look for it. I will send  out messages, such  as I can contrive, to  those  whom I know in the wide world; but so  perilous are the  lands now become that some  may well  miscarry, or come no quicker than you yourself.      `And I will choose you companions to go with  you, as far as  they will
  522. or fortune  allows. The number must be  few, since your hope is in speed and secrecy. Had  I a host of Elves  in armour of the Elder Days, it would avail little, save to arouse the power of Mordor.      `The Company of the Ring  shall be Nine;  and the Nine Walkers shall be set  against  the  Nine Riders  that are  evil. With you and  your  faithful servant, Gandalf will go;  for this shall be his  great task,  and maybe the end of his labours.      `For  the  rest, they  shall represent the  other  Free Peoples  of the World:  Elves, Dwarves, and  Men. Legolas  shall be for the Elves; and Gimli son of Gluin for the Dwarves. They are willing to go at least  to the passes of the  Mountains,  and maybe beyond. For men you shall have  Aragorn son of Arathorn, for the Ring of Isildur concerns him closely.'      `Strider!' said Frodo.      'Yes,' he  said  with  a  smile.  `I ask  leave  once again to be  your companion, Frodo.'      `I would have begged you to come,' said Frodo, 'only I thought you were going to Minas Tirith with Boromir.'      `I am,' said  Aragorn. `And the Sword-that-was-Broken shall be reforged ere I  set out to  war. But your road  and our  road  lie  together for many hundreds  of  miles. Therefore Boromir  will also be in the Company. He is a valiant man.'      'There remain  two more  to  be  found,'  said  Elrond.  "These  I will consider. Of my household I may find some that it seems good to me to send.'      `But  that will leave  no place for  us!'  cried Pippin in  dismay. `We don't want to be left behind. We want to go with Frodo.'      `That  is  because  you do not understand and cannot imagine what  lies ahead,' said Elrond.      `Neither  does Frodo,'  said  Gandalf,  unexpectedly supporting Pippin. 'Nor do  any of us see clearly. It is true that  if these hobbits understood the danger, they would  not dare to go. But they would  still wish to go, or wish that  they dared, and be shamed  and unhappy.  I think, Elrond, that in this matter it  would be well to  trust  rather  to their friendship than to great wisdom. Even if you chose for us an elf-lord,  such as  Glorfindel, he could not storm the Dark Tower, nor open the road  to the Fire by the  power that is in him.'      `You  speak  gravely,'  said Elrond, `but  I am in doubt. The Shire,  I forebode,  is not free now from peril;  and these two I had thought to  send
  523. back there as messengers, to do what they could, according to the fashion of their country, to warn the people of their danger. In any case, I judge that the younger of these two, Peregrin Took,  should remain. My heart is against his going.'      `Then, Master Elrond, you will have to  lock  me in prison,  or send me home  tied in  a  sack,'  said  Pippin. `For  otherwise  I shall follow  the Company.'      `Let it be so then. You shall go,' said Elrond, and he sighed. 'Now the tale of Nine is filled. In seven days the Company must depart.'      The Sword of Elendil was forged anew by Elvish smiths, and on its blade was traced  a device  of seven  stars set between the crescent Moon and  the rayed Sun,  and  about  them  was written  many  runes; for  Aragorn son  of Arathorn  was going to war upon the marches of Mordor. Very bright was  that sword  when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the  moon shone cold, and its edge  was hard and  keen. And Aragorn gave it a new name and called it And®ril, Flame of the West.      Aragorn and Gandalf walked together  or sat speaking of  their road and the  perils they  would meet; and they pondered the storied and figured maps and books of lore that were in the house of Elrond. Sometimes Frodo was with them; but  he was content to  lean on their guidance,  and he spent  as much time as he could with Bilbo.      In those  last days the hobbits sat together in the evening in the Hall of Fire, and there among many tales they heard told in full the lay of Beren and L®thien and the winning of the  Great Jewel; but in the day, while Merry and Pippin were out and about, Frodo and Sam were  to be found with Bilbo in his  own small  room.  Then Bilbo would  read  passages from his book (which still seemed very incomplete). or scraps of his verses, or  would take notes of Frodo's adventures.      On the morning of the last day Frodo  was alone with Bilbo, and the old hobbit  pulled  out from under his bed a wooden box.  He lifted  the lid and fumbled inside.      'Here  is your sword,' he said. 'But it was broken, you know. I took it to  keep it safe but I've  forgotten to ask if the smiths  could mend it. No time now..  So I thought, perhaps,  you would care to have this,  don't  you know?'      He took from the box  a small sword in an old shabby leathern scabbard. Then he drew it, and  its polished and well-tended blade glittered suddenly,
  524. cold  and bright. 'This is Sting,' he said, and thrust it with little effort deep into a wooden beam. `Take it, if  you like.  I shan't want  it again, I expect.'      Frodo accepted it gratefully.      'Also there is this!' said Bilbo, bringing out a parcel which seemed to be rather  heavy for  its size. He unwound several folds of  old cloth,  and held up a small shirt of  mail. It was close-woven of many  rings, as supple almost as linen, cold as ice,  and  harder than steel. It shone like moonlit silver,  and  was studded  with white gems. With it  was a belt of pearl and crystal.      'It's  a pretty thing,  isn't it?'  said Bilbo, moving it in the light. `And  useful.  It  is my dwarf-mail that  Thorin gave me. I got it back from Michel Delving before I started,  and packed  it with my  luggage: I brought all the mementoes of my Journey away with me, except the Ring. But I did not expect to use this, and I don't need it  now, except to  look  at sometimes. You hardly feel any weight when you put it on.'      `I  should look -- well, I don't think I should look right in it,' said Frodo.      `Just what I said myself,' said Bilbo. 'But never mind about looks. You can wear it under your  outer clothes.  Come  on! You must share this secret with me. Don't tell anybody else! But I should  feel happier  if I knew  you were wearing it.  I have a fancy it would turn even the  knives of the Black Riders,' he ended in a low voice.      `Very  well, I will take  it,' said  Frodo. Bilbo  put  it  on him, and fastened Sting upon the glittering belt; and then Frodo put over the top his old weather-stained breeches, tunic, and jacket.      'Just a  plain hobbit you  look,' said Bilbo.  'But there is more about you now than  appears  on the surface. Good luck to you!' He turned away and looked out of the window, trying to hum a tune.      'I cannot thank you as I should, Bilbo,  for this, and for all our past kindnesses,' said Frodo.      'Don't try!' said the old hobbit, turning round and slapping him on the back.  `Ow!' he cried. `You are  too  hard  now  to slap! But there you are: Hobbits must stick together, and especially  Bagginses. All I  ask in return is: take  as much care of yourself as you can. and  bring  back all the news you can, and  any old  songs and  tales you can come by. I'll do  my best to finish my book before you return. I should like to write the second book, if
  525. I am spared.' He broke off and turned to the window again, singing softly.
  526.  
  527.      I sit beside the fire and think      of all that I have seen,      of meadow-flowers and butterflies      in summers that have been;
  528.  
  529.      Of yellow leaves and gossamer      in autumns that there were,      with morning mist and silver sun      and wind upon my hair.
  530.  
  531.      I sit beside the fire and think      of how the world will be      when winter comes without a spring      that I shall ever see.
  532.  
  533.      For still there are so many things      that I have never seen:      in every wood in every spring      there is a different green.
  534.  
  535.      I sit beside the fire and think      of people long ago,      and people who will see a world      that I shall never know.
  536.  
  537.      But all the while I sit and think      of times there were before,      I listen for returning feet      and voices at the door.
  538.  
  539.      It was  a  cold grey  day near the end of  December.  The East Wind was streaming through  the  bare branches of the trees, and seething in the dark pines on the hills. Ragged clouds  were hurrying overhead,  dark and low. As the cheerless shadows  of the early evening began  to  fall the Company made ready to set out. They were to start at dusk, for Elrond  counselled them to
  540. journey  under cover  of night as often as  they could,  until they were far from Rivendell.      `You should fear the many eyes  of the servants of Sauron,' he said. 'I do not doubt that news of the discomfiture of the Riders has already reached him, and he will be filled with wrath. Soon now his spies on foot  and  wing will be abroad in the northern lands. Even of the  sky above you must beware as you go on your way.'      The Company took little gear of war,  for their hope was in secrecy not in battle. Aragorn had And®ril  but no other weapon, and he went  forth clad only in rusty green and brown. as a  Ranger of the wilderness. Boromir had a long sword,  in fashion like And®ril but of less  lineage and he bore also a shield and his war-horn.      'Loud and  clear it sounds  in the valleys of the hills,' he said, `and then  let all the foes  of Gondor  flee!' Putting  it to  his lips he blew a blast, and the echoes leapt from rock to rock, and all that heard that voice in Rivendell sprang to their feet.      Slow  should you  be to  wind  that  horn again,  Boromir, said Elrond. 'until you stand once more on the  borders of your land, and dire need is on you.'      `Maybe,' said Boromir.  'But always I have let my  horn cry  at setting forth, and though thereafter we may walk in the shadows, I will not go forth as a thief in the night.'      Gimli the  dwarf alone wore  openly  a short shirt of steel-rings,  for dwarves make  light  of burdens;  and in  his  belt was a  broad-bladed axe. Legolas had  a bow and a  quiver,  and  at his belt a long  white knife. The younger  hobbits wore the swords that they had  taken  from the  barrow; but Frodo took only Sting;  and his mail-coat, as Bilbo wished, remained hidden. Gandalf bore his staff, but girt at his side was  the elven-sword Glamdring, the mate of Orcrist that lay now upon  the breast of Thorin under the Lonely Mountain.      All were well furnished by Elrond with thick warm clothes, and they had jackets and cloaks lined with  fur. Spare food and clothes  and blankets and other needs were laden on a  pony, none other  than the poor beast that they had brought from Bree.      ?he stay  in Rivendell had  worked a  great wonder of change on him: he was  glossy and seemed  to  have  the vigour of youth.  It  was  Sam who had insisted on choosing him, declaring that Bill (as he called him) would pine,
  541. if he did not come.      `That  animal can nearly talk,' he said, `and  would talk, if he stayed here  much longer. He gave me a  look as plain as Mr. Pippin could speak it: if you don't  let me go  with you, Sam, I'll follow  on my own.' So Bill was going as the beast of burden, yet he was the only member of the Company that did not seem depressed.      Their  farewells had been  said in the great hall by the fire, and they were only waiting now for  Gandalf, who had not yet come out of the house. A gleam of firelight came from the open doors, and soft lights were glowing in many windows. Bilbo  huddled in a cloak stood silent  on the doorstep beside Frodo.  Aragorn sat with his head bowed to his knees; only Elrond knew fully what this hour meant to him. The others could be seen as grey  shapes in the darkness.      Sam was  standing by the  pony, sucking  his teeth, and staring moodily into  the  gloom  where  the  river  roared  stonily below;  his  desire for adventure was at its lowest ebb.      `Bill,  my lad,' he said,  `you oughtn't to have took up  with us.  You could have stayed here and et the best hay  till the  new grass comes.' Bill swished his tail and said nothing.      Sam  eased the pack on  his shoulders, and  went over anxiously  in his mind all the things that he had stowed in it,  wondering if he had forgotten anything: his chief treasure, his cooking gear; and the  little  box of salt that he  always carried  and  refilled  when he  could;  a  good  supply  of pipe-weed (but not near enough,  I'll  warrant); flint  and tinder;  woollen hose:  linen;  various  small  belongings  of his  master's that  Frodo  had forgotten and Sam had  stowed to  bring them out in  triumph when they  were called for. He went through them all.      'Rope!'  he  muttered. `No  rope!  And  only  last night  you  said  to yourself: "Sam, what about a bit of rope? You'll want it, if you haven't got it:" Well, I'll want it. I can't get it now.'      At that moment Elrond came out with  Gandalf, and he called the Company to him. 'This is my last  word,' he said in a low voice. 'The Ring-bearer is setting  out on the Quest  of  Mount Doom. On him  alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor  indeed to  let any  handle  it,  save  members of  the Company  and the Council,  and  only then in  gravest need. The others  go  with him  as free companions,  to help him on his way.  You may tarry,  or come back, or  turn
  542. aside into other paths, as chance allows. The further you  go, the less easy will it be  to  withdraw; yet  no oath or bond is  laid on you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of  your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road.'      `Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens,' said Gimli.      'Maybe,' said Elrond, `but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.'      'Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart,' said Gimli.      `Or  break it,' said Elrond. `Look  not too far ahead! But  go now with good hearts!  Farewell, and may the  blessing of Elves and Men and  all Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces!'      'Good . . . good luck!' cried Bilbo, stuttering with the cold. 'I don't suppose you will be able to keep a diary, Frodo my lad, but I shall expect a full account when you get back. And don't be too long! Farewell!'      Many others of Elrond's household stood in the shadows and watched them go, bidding them farewell  with soft  voices. There was no laughter, and  no song or music. At last they turned away and faded silently into the dusk.      They crossed  the bridge and wound slowly up the long steep paths  that led out of the cloven vale of Rivendell; and they came at length to the high moor where the wind hissed through the  heather. Then with one glance at the Last Homely House twinkling below them they strode away far into the night.      At  the  Ford of Bruinen they left the Road and turning southwards went on  by  narrow paths  among the folded lands. Their purpose was to hold this course west of the Mountains  for many  miles and days. The country was much rougher  and  more barren  than  in  the  green vale of the  Great River  in Wilderland  on the other side of the range,  and  their going would be slow; but  they hoped  in  this way to  escape the notice of unfriendly  eyes. The spies of Sauron had hitherto seldom been seen in this empty country, and the paths were little known except to the people of Rivendell.      Gandalf walked in front, and with him went Aragorn, who knew this  land even  in the dark.  The  others were in file behind, and  Legolas whose eyes were keen was the rearguard.  The first  part of their  journey was hard and dreary, and Frodo remembered little  of it, save the wind. For many  sunless days an icy blast came from the Mountains in the east, and no garment seemed able  to keep out its searching fingers.  Though the Company was  well clad, they  seldom felt warm, either moving or at rest. They slept uneasily during
  543. the middle of  the day,  in some  hollow of the land,  or  hidden under  the tangled  thorn-bushes  that  grew in  thickets in many places. In  the  late afternoon they were roused by the watch, and took their chief meal: cold and cheerless as  a rule, for they could seldom risk the lighting of a  fire. In the  evening  they went on again, always  as nearly  southward as they could find a way.      At  first  it seemed  to  the hobbits  that  although  they walked  and stumbled until  they were weary, they were creeping forward like snails, and getting nowhere. Each  day  the land looked much the same as  it had the day before. Yet steadily the  mountains were drawing nearer. South  of Rivendell they rose ever higher, and bent westwards; and about the  feet  of the  main range there was tumbled an ever  wider land of bleak hills, and deep valleys filled with turbulent waters. Paths were few and winding, and led them often only to the edge of some sheer fall, or down into treacherous swamps.      They had been a fortnight on the way when the weather changed. The wind suddenly fell and then  veered round to  the south. The swift-flowing clouds lifted and melted away, and the sun came out,  pale and bright. There came a cold clear dawn  at the  end of a long stumbling night-march. The travellers reached a low ridge crowned with ancient holly-trees whose grey-green trunks seemed to have  been  built  out of the very  stone of the hills. Their dark leaves shone and their berries glowed red in the light of the rising sun.      Away  in the  south Frodo could  see the  dim shapes of lofty mountains that seemed now to stand across the path that the Company was taking. At the left of this high  range rose three peaks; the  tallest and nearest stood up like a tooth tipped with snow; its great, bare, northern precipice was still largely  in the  shadow, but where the sunlight slanted upon  it,  it glowed red.      Gandalf stood  at Frodo's side and  looked out under his hand. `We have done well,' he said.  `We have reached the borders of the country  that  Men call Hollin; many Elves lived here  in happier  days,  when Eregion was  its name.  Five-and-forty leagues as the crow flies we  have come,  though  many long miles further our feet  have walked. The land and the weather  will  be milder now, but perhaps all the more dangerous.'      `Dangerous or  not, a  real sunrise  is  mighty  welcome,'  said Frodo, throwing back his hood and letting the morning light fall on his face.      'But the mountains  are ahead of us,' said Pippin. `We must have turned eastwards in the night.'
  544.      'No,'  said Gandalf. 'But you  see further ahead in  the  clear  light. Beyond those peaks the range bends round south-west. There are  many maps in Elrond's house, but I suppose you never thought to look at them?'      `Yes I did, sometimes,' said Pippin, `but I don't remember them.  Frodo has a better head for that sort of thing.'      `I need no map,' said  Gimli, who  had come  up  with Legolas,  and was gazing out before him with a strange  light in his deep eyes. `There is  the land where our fathers worked of old, and we have wrought the image of those mountains  into many works of metal  and of  stone, and into  many songs and tales. They stand tall in our dreams: Baraz, Zirak, Shathyr.      `Only once before have I seen them from afar in waking life, but I know them and their names, for under them lies  Khazad-dym, the Dwarrowdelf, that is  now  called  the Black Pit,  Moria in the Elvish  tongue.  Yonder stands Barazinbar, the  Redhorn, cruel Caradhras; and beyond him are Silvertine and Cloudyhead: Celebdil  the  White,  and  Fanuidhol  the Grey,  that  we  call Zirak-zigil and Bundushathyr.      `There the  Misty  Mountains  divide, and between  their  arms lies the deep-shadowed valley  which we cannot forget: Azanulbizar, the Dimrill Dale, which the Elves call Nanduhirion.'      `It is for the Dimrill Dale  that we are  making,' said Gandalf. `If we climb  the  pass that  is called the Redhorn Gate, under  the  far  side  of Caradhras, we shall come down by the Dimrill Stair into the deep vale of the Dwarves. There lies the Mirrormere, and there the River Silverlode rises  in its icy springs.'      `Dark is  the water  of  Kheled-zvram,' said Gimli, `and  cold are  the springs of Kibil-nvla. My  heart trembles at the thought that I may see them soon.'      `May you have  joy of the sight, my good  dwarf  l' said  Gandalf. 'But whatever you may do, we at least cannot stay in that valley. We must go down the Silverlode into the secret woods, and so  to the Great  River,  and then --'      He paused.      'Yes, and where then?' asked Merry.      'To the end of the  journey -- in the  end,' said  Gandalf.  'We cannot look too  far ahead. Let us be glad that  the first stage is safely over.  I think we  will rest here, not only today but  tonight as  well. There  is  a
  545. wholesome air about Hollin. Much evil must befall a country before it wholly forgets the Elves, if once they dwelt there.'      'That is true,' said Legolas. `But  the Elves of  this land  were of  a race strange to  us  of the  silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them: Only I hear the stones  lament them: deep they delved us, fair  they wrought  us,  high they  builded us;  but they are gone. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago.'      That morning they lit a fire in a deep  hollow shrouded by great bushes of holly, and their supper-breakfast was merrier than it had been since they set out. They did not hurry to bed afterwards, for they expected to have all the  night  to sleep  in, and they  did not  mean to go  on again until  the evening of the next day. Only Aragorn was silent and restless. After a while he left the Company  and  wandered on  to the ridge; there he stood  in  the shadow of a tree, looking out southwards and  westwards, with his head posed as if he was listening. Then he returned to the brink of the dell and looked down at the others laughing and talking.      `What  is the  matter, Strider?' Merry called up. 'What are you looking for? Do you miss the East Wind?'      'No  indeed,' he answered. `But I miss  something. I  have been in  the country  of  Hollin in many seasons. No folk  dwell here now, but many other creatures live here at  all times, especially birds. Yet now all  things but you are silent. I  can feel it.  There is no sound for miles about  us,  and your voices seem to make the ground echo. I do not understand it.'      Gandalf looked  up with  sudden interest. `But what do you guess is the reason?' he asked.  `Is  there  more  in  it  than  surprise  at seeing four hobbits, not to mention  the rest of us, where people are so seldom seen  or heard?'      `I  hope  that  is  it,'  answered Aragorn.  `But I  have  a  sense  of watchfulness, and of fear, that I have never had here before.'      "Then we  must be more careful,' said Gandalf.  'If you bring a  Ranger with you, it  is well  to pay attention to  him, especially if the Ranger is Aragorn. We must stop talking aloud, rest quietly, and set the watch.'      It was Sam's turn that day  to take the first watch, but Aragorn joined him. The others  fell asleep. Then the silence grew until even  Sam felt it. The breathing  of  the  sleepers could be  plainly heard.  The swish  of the pony's tail and the occasional movements of his feet became loud noises. Sam could hear his own joints creaking, if  he  stirred. Dead silence was around
  546. him, and  over all hung a  clear blue sky, as the Sun rode up from the East. Away  in the South  a dark patch appeared,  and grew,  and  drove north like flying smoke in the wind.      `What's  that, Strider? It don't look  like  a  cloud,' said  Sam  in a whisper to  Aragorn. He made no  answer, he was gazing  intently at the sky; but  before long  Sam could see for himself what was  approaching. Flocks of birds, flying at great speed, were wheeling and circling, and traversing all the  land as if they  were searching for  something; and they  were steadily drawing nearer.      `Lie  flat and still!' hissed  Aragorn, pulling Sam down into the shade of a holly-bush; for a whole regiment of birds had broken away suddenly from the main host, and came, flying low, straight towards the ridge. Sam thought they were a kind of crow of large size. As they passed overhead, in so dense a throng that their shadow followed them  darkly over the  ground below, one harsh croak was heard.      Not until they had  dwindled into the distance, north and west, and the sky was again  clear  would  Aragorn rise. Then he  sprang  up and  went and wakened Gandalf.      `Regiments of  black  crows  are  flying over all  the land between the Mountains  and the Greyflood,'  he said, `and  they have passed over Hollin. They are not natives here; they are crebain out of Fangorn and Dunland. I do not know what they are about: possibly there is some trouble away south from which they are  fleeing; but  I  think  they are spying out the land. I have also glimpsed many hawks flying high up in the sky. I think we ought to move again this  evening.  Hollin is no  longer wholesome  for  us: it  is  being watched.'      `And in that case so is the Redhorn  Gate,' said Gandalf;  `and how  we can get over that without being seen, I cannot imagine. But we will think of that when we must. As for moving as soon as it is dark, I am afraid that you are right.'      `Luckily our fire made  little smoke,  and  had  burned  low before the crebain came,' said Aragorn. `It must be put out and not lit again.'      `Well if that isn't a plague and a nuisance!' said Pippin. The news: no fire, and a move again  by night, had been broken to him, as soon as he woke in the late afternoon. 'All because of a pack of crows! I had looked forward to a real good meal tonight: something hot.'      `Well, you can go on looking forward,' said Gandalf. `There may be many
  547. unexpected feasts ahead for you. For myself I should like a pipe to smoke in comfort,  and warmer feet. However, we are certain of one thing at any rate: it will get warmer as we get south.'      'Too  warm, I  shouldn't  wonder,'  muttered  Sam  to  Frodo. 'But  I'm beginning to think it's time we got  a sight of that Fiery Mountain  and saw the end of the Road, so to speak. I thought at first that this here Redhorn, or  whatever its  name is, might  be it, till Gimli spoke his piece.  A fair jaw-cracker dwarf-language  must be!' Maps  conveyed nothing  to Sam's mind, and all  distances in  these strange lands  seemed so vast that he was quite out of his reckoning.      All that day the Company remained in hiding. The dark birds passed over now  and  again;  but  as  the  westering  Sun  grew  red  they  disappeared southwards. At dusk  the  Company set out, and  turning  now half  east they steered their course towards  Caradhras, which far away still glowed faintly red  in the last  light of the vanished Sun. One  by one  white stars sprang forth as the sky faded.      Guided by Aragorn they struck a good path. It looked to Frodo  like the remains of an ancient road, that had once been broad and  well planned, from Hollin to the  mountain-pass.  The  Moon, now  at the  full,  rose  over the mountains, and cast a pale light in which the shadows of stones were  black. Many  of  them looked  to  have been worked by hands, though  now  they  lay tumbled and ruinous in a bleak, barren land.      It  was the cold chill hour before the first stir of dawn, and the moon was low. Frodo looked  up at the sky. Suddenly  he saw or felt a shadow pass over the high  stars, as  if for a  moment they faded  and  then flashed out again. He shivered.      `Did you see anything pass over?' he whispered to Gandalf, who was just ahead.      `No, but I felt it, whatever  it was,' he answered. `It may be nothing, only a wisp of thin cloud.'      `It was moving fast then,' muttered Aragorn, `and not with the wind.'      Nothing  further  happened  that  night.  The next morning  dawned even brighter  than  before.  But the air was chill  again; already  the wind was turning back towards the east. For two more nights they marched on, climbing steadily but ever more slowly as their road wound up into the hills, and the mountains towered up, nearer and nearer. On the third morning Caradhras rose before  them, a mighty peak, tipped with  snow  like silver, but with  sheer
  548. naked sides, dull red as if stained with blood.      There was a  black look in the sky, and  the sun was wan. The  wind had gone now round to the north-east. Gandalf snuffed the air and looked back.      `Winter deepens behind us,' he said quietly to  Aragorn.  'The  heights away  north  are whiter  than  they  were;  snow  is  lying far  down  their shoulders. Tonight we shall be on our way high up  towards the Redhorn Gate. We  may well be seen  by watchers  on that narrow path,  and waylaid by some evil;  but the weather may prove a  more deadly enemy than any. What  do you think of your course now, Aragorn?'      Frodo overheard  these  words, and understood that  Gandalf and Aragorn were  continuing  some  debate  that  had  begun  long before.  He  listened anxiously.      'I think no good of our course from beginning to end, as you know well, Gandalf,' answered Aragorn. `And perils known and unknown will grow as we go on. But we must  go on; and it is no good our  delaying  the passage  of the mountains. Further south  there are no passes, till one comes to the Gap  of Rohan.  I do not trust  that way since your news of Saruman. Who knows which side now the marshals of the Horse-lords serve?'      'Who knows indeed!' said Gandalf. `But there is another way, and not by the pass of Caradhras: the dark and secret way that we have spoken of.'      'But let us not speak of it again! Not yet. Say nothing to the others I beg, not until it is plain that there is no other way.'      'We must decide before we go further,' answered Gandalf.      'Then let us weigh  the matter in our  minds, while the others rest and sleep,' said Aragorn.      In the late afternoon, while the others were finishing their breakfast, Gandalf and Aragorn  went aside together and stood looking at Caradhras. Its sides  were now dark  and sullen, and  its head  was in  grey  cloud.  Frodo watched them, wondering which way the debate would go. When they returned to the Company Gandalf spoke, and then he knew that it had been decided to face the weather and the high  pass. He was relieved. He could not guess what was the other dark and secret way, but the very mention of it had seemed to fill Aragorn with dismay, and Frodo was glad that it had been abandoned.      `From signs that we have  seen lately,' said Gandalf,  'I fear that the
  549. Redhorn Gate may be  watched; and also  I have doubts of the weather that is coming up behind. Snow may come. We must go  with all the speed that we can. Even so it will take us more than two marches before we reach the top of the pass.  Dark will come early this evening. We must leave  as  soon as you can get ready.'      'I will  add a  word of  advice, if I  may,'  said Boromir. 'I was born under the shadow of the White Mountains and  know  something of journeys  in the high places. We shall meet bitter cold, if no worse, before we come down on the other side. It will not help  us to keep so secret that we are frozen to death. When we leave here, where  there are still a few trees and bushes, each of us should carry a faggot of wood, as large as he can bear.'      'And Bill could take a bit more, couldn't  you lad?' said Sam. The pony looked at him mournfully.      'Very well,' said Gandalf. `But we must not  use the wood -- not unless it is a choice between fire and death.'      The Company set out again with good speed at first; but soon their  way became steep  and  difficult.  The twisting  and climbing road  had  in many places almost disappeared, and was  blocked  with  many fallen  stones.  The night grew deadly dark under great clouds. A  bitter wind swirled among  the rocks. By midnight they had climbed to the knees of the great mountains. The narrow path now wound  under a sheer wall of cliffs to the left, above which the grim flanks of Caradhras towered up invisible in the gloom; on the right was a gulf of darkness where the land fell suddenly into a deep ravine.      Laboriously they climbed a  sharp slope and halted for a  moment at the top. Frodo felt a soft touch on his face. He put out his arm and saw the dim white flakes of snow settling on his sleeve.      They went on. But before  long the snow was falling fast,  filling  all the air, and swirling into Frodo's eyes. The dark bent shapes of Gandalf and Aragorn only a pace or two ahead could hardly be seen.      'I don't like this at all,' panted Sam  just behind.  'Snow's all right on a fine morning,  but I like to be in  bed while it's falling. I wish this lot would  go off to Hobbiton! Folk might  welcome  it there.' Except on the high moors of the Northfarthing a heavy fall was rare in the Shire,  and was regarded as  a pleasant event and  a chance for fun. No  living hobbit (save
  550. Bilbo) could remember the Fell Winter of 1311, when the white wolves invaded the Shire over the frozen Brandywine.      Gandalf  halted. Snow  was  thick on  his  hood and  shoulders;  it was already ankle-deep about his boots.      "This is what I feared,' he said. `What do you say now, Aragorn?'      'That I feared  it too,' Aragorn answered, `but less than other things. I knew the  risk of  snow, though it seldom falls heavily so far south, save high up in the mountains. But we are not  high yet;  we are still  far down, where the paths are usually open all the winter.'      'I wonder if this  is a contrivance  of the Enemy,' said Boromir. "They say in my land that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow that stand upon the borders of Mordor. He has strange powers and many allies.'      'His arm  has grown long indeed,' said Gimli, `if he can draw snow down from the North to trouble us here three hundred leagues away.'      'His arm has grown long,' said Gandalf.      While  they  were halted,  the wind died  down, and the snow  slackened until  it almost ceased. They tramped on again.  But they had not  gone more than a  furlong when the storm returned with fresh  fury. The  wind whistled and  the snow became a blinding blizzard. Soon even Boromir found it hard to keep going. The hobbits, bent nearly double, toiled along behind  the taller folk, but it was  plain  that they could not  go much  further,  if the snow continued.  Frodo's  feet felt like lead. Pippin  was dragging behind.  Even Gimli, as stout as any dwarf could be, was grumbling as he trudged.      The Company  halted  suddenly, as if  they  had  come  to  an agreement without any words  being  spoken. They  heard eerie noises in  the  darkness round them.  It may have been only a  trick of  the wind in  the cracks  and gullies  of the  rocky wall, but the sounds were those of shrill  cries, and wild  howls  of  laughter.  Stones  began  to  fall  from the mountain-side, whistling over  their heads, or crashing on the path beside them. Every  now and  again they heard a dull  rumble,  as a great  boulder rolled  down from hidden heights above.      `We cannot go further  tonight,' said Boromir. `Let those  call it  the wind who will; there are fell voices on the  air; and these stones are aimed at us.'      `I do call it the wind,' said Aragorn. `But that does not make what you say untrue. There are many evil and unfriendly things in the world that have
  551. little  love for those that go on two legs, and  yet are not in  league with Sauron, but have purposes of  their own. Some have been in this world longer than he.'      'Caradhras was called the Cruel, and had an ill name, said Gimli, `long years ago, when rumour of Sauron had not been heard in these lands.'      `It matters little who is the enemy, if we cannot beat off  his attack; said Gandalf.      'But what can we do?'  cried Pippin miserably. He  was leaning on Merry and Frodo, and he was shivering.      `Either stop where we are, or  go back,' said Gandalf.  'It is no  good going on. Only a little higher, if I remember rightly,  this path leaves the cliff  and  runs into  a wide  shallow trough at the bottom of a  long  hard slope. We should  have no shelter there  from snow, or stones -- or anything else.'      `And it is no good going back while the storm holds,' said Aragorn. `We have  passed  no place on the way up that  offered  more  shelter  than this cliff-wall we are under now.'      `Shelter!' muttered Sam. `If this is shelter, then one wall and no roof make a house.'      The Company now gathered together  as close to the cliff as they could. It faced  southwards, and near the bottom it leaned  out  a little, so  that they hoped it would give  them some protection  from  the northerly wind and from the falling  stones. But eddying blasts swirled  round them from  every side, and the snow flowed down in ever denser clouds.      They huddled together with their backs to the wall. Bill the pony stood patiently but dejectedly in  front  of  the  hobbits,  and  screened  them a little; but before long the  drifting snow was above his  hocks, and it went on mounting. If they had had no  larger companions the  hobbits  would  soon have been entirely buried.      A great sleepiness came over Frodo; he felt himself sinking fast into a warm and hazy dream. He thought a fire was heating his toes,  and out of the shadows on the other side of the hearth he heard Bilbo's voice  speaking.  I don't think much of your diary, he  said. Snowstorms on January the twelfth: there was no need to come back to report that!      But I wanted rest and sleep, Bilbo, Frodo answered with an effort, when he  felt  himself shaken, and he came back painfully to wakefulness. Boromir had lifted him off the ground out of a nest of snow.
  552.      `This will be the death  of the halflings, Gandalf,'  said Boromir. `It is useless  to sit  here until the  snow goes  over  our heads.  We must  do something to save ourselves.'      `Give them this,' said Gandalf, searching in his pack and drawing out a leathern flask. `Just a mouthful each -- for all of us. It is very precious. It is miruvor, the cordial of Imladris. Elrond gave it to me at our parting. Pass it round!'      As soon as Frodo had swallowed a little of the warm and fragrant liquor he felt a new strength of heart, and the  heavy drowsiness  left  his limbs. The  others also  revived and found fresh hope and vigour. But the snow  did not  relent. It whirled about  them thicker  than  ever, and the  wind  blew louder.      'What do  you say to fire?' asked Boromir  suddenly. 'The  choice seems near now between fire and death, Gandalf. Doubtless we shall be hidden  from all unfriendly eyes when the  snow has covered us,  but that  will not  help us.'      'You may make a fire,  if you can,' answered Gandalf. 'If there are any watchers that can endure this storm, then they  can see us, fire or no.' But though they had  brought wood and kindlings by  the  advice  of Boromir,  it passed the skill of Elf or even Dwarf to strike a flame that would hold amid the swirling wind or catch  in  the  wet fuel.  At  last reluctantly Gandalf himself took a hand. Picking  up a faggot he held it aloft for a moment, and then with a word of command, naur an edraith ammen! he thrust the end of his staff into  the midst of it.  At once a great spout  of green and blue flame sprang out, and the wood flared and sputtered.      `If there  are any  to  see, then I at  least am revealed to  them,' he said. 'I have  written Gandalf  is  here  in signs  that all  can  read from Rivendell to the mouths of Anduin.'      But the Company cared no longer for watchers or unfriendly  eyes. Their hearts were rejoiced to see  the light of the fire. The wood burned merrily; and though  all round it  the  snow  hissed, and pools of  slush crept under their feet, they warmed  their hands gladly at the  blaze. There they stood, stooping  in  a circle round the little  dancing and  blowing flames. A  red light was on their tired and anxious faces; behind them the night was like a black wall.      But the wood was burning fast, and the snow still fell.      The fire burned low. and the last faggot was thrown on.
  553.      The night is getting old,' said Aragorn. "The dawn is not far off.'      `If any dawn can pierce these clouds,' said Gimli.      Boromir  stepped  out of the  circle and stared up into  the blackness. 'The snow is growing less,' he said, `and the wind is quieter.'      Frodo gazed wearily at the flakes  still  falling out of the dark to be revealed white  for a moment in the light of the dying fire;  but for a long time he could see no sign of their slackening. Then suddenly,  as sleep  was beginning to creep over him again, he  was aware that  the  wind had  indeed fallen,  and the flakes were  becoming larger and fewer. Very slowly  a  dim light began to grow. At last the snow stopped altogether.      As the  light grew stronger  it showed  a silent shrouded world.  Below their refuge  were white  humps and domes and shapeless deeps beneath  which the path  that they had trodden was  altogether lost;  but the heights above were hidden in great clouds still heavy with the threat of snow.      Gimli looked up and shook his head. `Caradhras has not forgiven us.' he said.  `He has more snow yet to fling at  us, if we go on.  The sooner we go back and down the better.'      To this all agreed, but their retreat  was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it  had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.      `If  Gandalf  would go before us with  a bright  flame, he might melt a path for you,' said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.      `If Elves could fly over mountains, they  might fetch  the Sun  to save us,' answered Gandalf. `But I must have something to work on.  I cannot burn snow.'      `Well,' said Boromir, `when heads are  at a  loss bodies must serve, as we say in my  country. The strongest of us must seek a  way. See! Though all is  now snow-clad,  our path, as  we came up, turned about that shoulder  of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could  reach that point, maybe it would prove easier  beyond. It  is no more than a furlong off, I guess.'      `Then let us force a path thither, you and I!' said Aragorn.      Aragorn was the  tallest of the  Company, but  Boromir, little less  in height, was  broader and heavier  in  build.  He led  the  way,  and Aragorn followed  him.  Slowly  they  moved off, and were soon  toiling heavily.  In
  554. places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir  seemed to bc swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.      Legolas watched  them for a while with a smile upon his lips,  and then he turned to the others. `The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough,  but choose an otter for swimming, and  for  running light over grass and leaf or over snow-an Elf.'      With that he sprang forth nimbly, and  then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint  in the snow.      'Farewell!' he said to Gandalf. `I go to find the Sun!' Then swift as a runner over  firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a  wave of his hand he passed them,  and  sped into  the  distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.      The others  waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks  in the whiteness. At length they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down again.      An hour, maybe,  went by, though it seemed far longer, and then at last they  saw  Legolas  coming  back.  At  the  same time  Boromir  and  Aragorn reappeared round the bend far behind him and came labouring up the slope.      `Well,' cried Legolas as he ran up, `I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam  of good hope for  those who are doomed  to  go on feet. There  is  the greatest wind-drift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I  returned and told them  that the  drift was little wider  than  a wall. And on  the  other  side the snow suddenly grows less,  while further down  it  is no  more than  a white coverlet  to cool a hobbit's toes.'      `Ah, it is as I  said,' growled Gimli. 'It was no ordinary storm. It is the  ill  will of Caradhras. He  does not love Elves and  Dwarves, and  that drift was laid to cut off our escape.'      'But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you  have Men with you,' said Boromir, who came up at that moment. `And doughty Men too, if I may say
  555. it; though lesser  men with spades might have served you  better.  Still, we have thrust a lane through the  drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves.'      `But  how are we  to get down there, even  if  you have cut through the drift?' said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.      'Have  hope!' said Boromir. 'I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and  Aragorn too. We  will  bear the  little folk. The others no doubt will make shift  to tread the path behind  us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you.'      He lifted  up  the hobbit. 'Cling to  my back! I shall need my arms' he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin marvelled at his  strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with  no  other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.      They  came  at length  to  the  great drift.  It  was  flung across the mountain-path like a  sheer  and sudden  wall, and  its  crest, sharp as  if shaped with  knives,  reared up more than twice the  height of  Boromir; but through the middle  a passage had been  beaten, rising  and falling  like  a bridge.  On  the  far  side Merry  and Pippin were set down, and there  they waited with Legolas for the rest of the Company to arrive.      After a  while Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in  the narrow but now well-trodden track came Gandalf,  leading  Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering  snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff,  and  when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.      `Enough, enough!' cried Gimli. 'We are departing as quickly as we may!' And  indeed with that  last stroke the malice  of  the mountain seemed to be expended, as if Caradhras was  satisfied  that the invaders had been  beaten off  and  would not  dare to  return. The threat of snow lifted; the  clouds began to break and the light grew broader.      As Legolas had reported, they found that the snow  became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they  all stood once more on the  flat shelf at the head of the steep  slope where they had felt the first flakes of snow the night before.      The morning was now far advanced. From  the high place they looked back
  556. westwards over the lower lands.  Far away in the tumble of country  that lay at the foot of the  mountain  was  the  dell  from which they had started to climb the pass.      Frodo's legs ached. He was chilled to the bone and hungry; and his head was dizzy as he thought of the long and painful march downhill. Black specks swam  before his eyes. He rubbed them, but the black specks remained. In the distance below him, but still high above the lower foothills, dark dots were circling in the air.      `The birds again!' said Aragorn, pointing down.      'That cannot be helped  now,' said Gandalf.  `Whether they are good  or evil,  or have nothing to do with us at  all, we must go  down at  once. Not even on the knees of Caradhras will we wait for another night-fall!'      A cold  wind flowed down behind them, as they turned their backs on the Redhorn Gate,  and stumbled  wearily down the  slope. Caradhras had defeated them.
  557.  
  558.  
  559.  
  560. Chapter 4. A Journey in the Dark
  561.  
  562.  
  563.      It was  evening, and the  grey light  was again  waning fast, when they halted  for the night. They were very  weary.  The mountains were veiled  in deepening dusk, and the wind was cold. Gandalf spared them one more mouthful each of the miruvor  of Rivendell. When they had eaten some food he called a council.      'We cannot, of  course, go on again  tonight,' he said. `The attack  on the Redhorn Gate has tired us out, and we must rest here for a while.'      `And then where are we to go? ' asked Frodo.      'We still have our journey and our errand before us,' answered Gandalf. `We have no choice but to go on, or to return to Rivendell.'      Pippin's  face brightened visibly at the  mere  mention  of  return  to Rivendell; Merry and Sam looked  up hopefully. But Aragorn  and Boromir made no sign. Frodo looked troubled.      `I wish I was back there,' he said. `But how can I return without shame -- unless there is indeed no other way, and we are already defeated? '      `You  are right, Frodo,'  said Gandalf:  `to go back is to admit defeat and face worse defeat to come. If we go  back now, then the Ring must remain there: we shall not be able to set out again. Then sooner or later Rivendell will be  besieged,  and after a  brief and bitter time it will be destroyed. The  Ringwraiths  are deadly  enemies, but they are only shadows  yet of the power and terror they would possess if the Ruling Ring was on their master's hand again.'      'Then  we must  go on, if there is a way,' said  Frodo with a sigh. Sam sank back into gloom.      `There is a way that we may attempt,' said Gandalf. `I thought from the beginning, when  first I considered this journey, that we should try it. But it is not a pleasant way, and I have not spoken of it to the Company before. Aragorn was against it, until the pass over the mountains had  at least been tried.'      `If  it  is a worse road  than the  Redhorn Gate,  then it must be evil
  564. indeed,' said Merry. `But you had better tell us about it, and  let  us know the worst at once.'      'The road  that I speak  of leads to the Mines of Moria,' said Gandalf. Only  Gimli lifted  up his head; a smouldering fire  was in his eyes. On all the others a dread fell at  the mention of that name. Even to the hobbits it was a legend of vague fear:      `The road  may lead  to Moria,  but how can  we  hope that it will lead through Moria? ' said Aragorn darkly.      `It  is a name of ill omen,' said Boromir. `Nor do I see the need to go there. If we cannot cross the mountains, let us journey southwards, until we come  to the Gap of Rohan, where men  are friendly to  my people, taking the road that  I followed on my way  hither. Or we might  pass by  and cross the Isen into Langstrand and  Lebennin,  and so come to Gondor from the  regions nigh to the sea.'      'Things have changed since you came  north, Boromir,' answered Gandalf. 'Did you not hear what I  told you  of Saruman? With him I may have business of my own ere all is over. But the Ring must not come near Isengard, if that can by any means be prevented. The Gap of Rohan is closed to  us while we go with the Bearer.      'As  for the longer road:  we cannot  afford the time. We might spend a year in such a journey, and we should pass through many lands that are empty and  harbourless.  Yet  they would not  be safe. The watchful  eyes  both of Saruman and of the Enemy are on them. When you came north, Boromir, you were in the  Enemy's eyes only one stray wanderer from the South and a matter  of small concern to  him: his  mind was busy with the pursuit of the  Ring. But you return now as  a member of the Ring's  Company, and you  are in peril as long as you remain with us. The danger will increase  with every league that we go south under the naked sky.      `Since our open attempt on the mountain-pass our plight has become more desperate, I  fear. I  see now little  hope, if  we  do not soon vanish from sight for a while, and cover our trail. Therefore I advise that we should go neither over the mountains, nor round them, but  under them. That  is a road at any rate that the Enemy will least expect us to take.'      `We do not  know what  he expects,' said  Boromir. `He  may  watch  all roads, likely and  unlikely. In  that case to enter  Moria would  be to walk into  a  trap, hardly better than knocking at  the  gates of  the Dark Tower
  565. itself. The name of Moria is black.'      `You speak  of  what  you do not  know,  when you  liken  Moria to  the stronghold of Sauron,' answered Gandalf.  `I alone of you  have ever been in the dungeons of the Dark Lord, and only in  his older and lesser dwelling in Dol Guldur. Those who pass the gates of Barad-dyr do not return. But I would not lead you into Moria if there  were no hope of coming out again. If there are Orcs there,  it may prove ill for us, that is true. But most of the Orcs of the Misty Mountains were  scattered or  destroyed  in the Battle  of Five Armies. The Eagles report that Orcs are gathering again from afar; but there is a hope that Moria is still free.      `There is  even a chance that Dwarves are  there, and that in some deep hall of his fathers, Balin son of Fundin may be found. However it may prove, one must tread the path that need chooses!'      'I will tread the  path with you, Gandalf! ' said Gimli. 'I will go and look on  the halls of Durin, whatever may  wait  there-if  you can  find the doors that are shut.'      'Good,  Gimli!  '  said  Gandalf.  `You encourage me. We  will seek the hidden  doors together.  And  we will come  through.  In  the  ruins of  the Dwarves, a dwarf's head  will be less easy to bewilder than Elves or Men  or Hobbits. Yet it  will not  be the first time  that  I have been to  Moria. I sought  there long for Thrbin son of  Thrur  after  he  was  lost.  I passed through, and I came out again alive! '      `I too once passed the Dimrill Gate,' said Aragorn quietly; 'but though I also came out again, the memory is very evil. I do not wish to enter Moria a second time.'      'And I don't wish to enter it even once,' said Pippin.      'Nor me,' muttered Sam.      `Of course not!  ' said Gandalf.  'Who would? But  the question is: who will follow me, if I lead you there? '      'I will,' said Gimli eagerly.      'I  will,' said  Aragorn  heavily.  `You  followed  my  lead almost  to disaster in  the  snow, and have said no  word of  blame. I will follow your lead  now -- if this last warning does not move you. It is  not of the Ring, nor of  us others that  I am thinking now, but of you, Gandalf. And I say to you: if you pass the doors of Moria, beware! '      `I  will not go,' said Boromir;  'not  unless  the vote  of  the  whole company  is  against me.  What  do  Legolas and  the  little  folk  say? The
  566. Ring-bearer's voice surely should be heard? '      'I do not wish to go to Moria,' said Legolas.      The  hobbits said nothing. Sam looked at Frodo. At last Frodo spoke. `I do  not wish to go,' he said; `but neither do I wish to refuse the advice of Gandalf. I  beg that there should be  no vote,  until we  have slept on  it. Gandalf will get votes easier in the light of the morning than in this  cold gloom. How the wind howls! '      At  these  words  all fell  into silent thought. They  heard  the  wind hissing among the rocks and trees, and there was a howling and wailing round them in the empty spaces of the night.      Suddenly  Aragorn leapt to  his feet. 'How the wind howls! '  he cried. 'It is howling with wolf-voices. The  Wargs have come west of the Mountains! '      'Need we wait until morning then? ' said Gandalf. `It is as I said. The hunt  is  up! Even if  we live to see the dawn, who now will wish to journey south by night with the wild wolves on his trail? '      'How far is Moria? ' asked Boromir.      `There was a door south-west  of Caradhras,  some  fifteen miles as the crow flies, and maybe twenty as the wolf runs,' answered Gandalf grimly.      'Then let  us start as soon as it is light tomorrow, if  we can,'  said Boromir. 'The wolf that one hears is worse than the orc that one fears.'      `True!' said Aragorn, loosening his sword in its sheath. `But where the warg howls, there also the orc prowls.'      `I  wish I had taken Elrond's advice,' muttered Pippin to Sam. `I am no good after all. There is not enough of the breed of Bandobras the Bullroarer in  me:  these  howls  freeze my  blood.  I  don't ever  remember feeling so wretched.'      'My heart's  right  down  in my  toes, Mr. Pippin,' said Sam.  'But  we aren't etten yet,  and there are some stout folk here with  us. Whatever may be in store for old Gandalf, I'll wager it isn't a wolf's belly.'      For their defence in the  night the Company  climbed to the  top of the small hill under which they had been sheltering. it was crowned  with a knot of old and twisted trees, about which lay a broken circle of boulder stones. In the midst of  this they lit a fire,  for there was  no hope that darkness and silence would keep their trail from discovery by the hunting packs.      Round the  fire  they  sat,  and those  that  were  not on  guard dozed uneasily.  Poor  Bill the  pony  trembled  and sweated where he  stood.  The
  567. howling of the wolves was now all round them, sometimes nearer and sometimes further off.  In the dead  of the night many shining eyes were  seen peering over the brow of the  hill. Some advanced almost to the ring of stones. At a gap  in the circle a great  dark wolf-shape  could be seen halted, gazing at them.  A shuddering howl  broke from him, as if he  were a captain summoning his pack to the assault.      Gandalf stood  up and strode forward, holding his staff aloft. 'Listen, Hound of Sauron! ' he cried. `Gandalf is here.  Fly, if you value  your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring.'      The wolf snarled and  sprang towards  them  with a great leap.  At that moment  there was a sharp twang. Legolas  had  loosed his bow.  There  was a hideous yell, and the leaping shape thudded to  the ground; the elvish arrow had  pierced  its  throat. The  watching  eyes were  suddenly  extinguished. Gandalf  and  Aragorn strode forward, but the hill was deserted; the hunting packs had fled. All about them  the darkness grew silent, and no cry came on the sighing wind.      The  night was  old, and westward the waning moon was setting. gleaming fitfully  through the breaking clouds.  Suddenly  Frodo started  from sleep. Without warning  a  storm of  howls broke out fierce and wild all  about the camp. A great host of Wargs had gathered silently and was now attacking them from every side at once.      `Fling  fuel on the  fire!' cried  Gandalf to  the  hobbits. `Draw your blades, and stand back to back!'      In the leaping light, as  the fresh wood blazed up, Frodo saw many grey shapes spring over  the  ring of stones. More and more followed. Through the throat of one  huge  leader  Aragorn passed his sword with a thrust; with  a great sweep Boromir hewed the head off another. Beside them Gimli stood with his  stout  legs apart,  wielding  his  dwarf-axe.  The  bow of  Legolas was singing.      In the wavering firelight  Gandalf seemed suddenly to grow: he rose up, a  great menacing shape like the monument of some ancient king of  stone set upon a hill. Stooping like a cloud, he lifted a burning branch and strode to meet the wolves. They gave  back before him. High in  the air he  tossed the blazing  brand.  It flared with a  sudden white radiance like lightning; and his voice rolled like thunder.
  568.      `Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!' he cried.      There was a roar and a crackle, and  the  tree above him  burst  into a leaf and bloom of blinding flame. The fire leapt  from tree-top to tree-top. The whole hill was crowned with dazzling light. The swords and knives of the defenders shone and flickered. The last arrow of Legolas kindled in  the air as it flew, and  plunged burning into the  heart of a  great wolf-chieftain. All the others fled.      Slowly the fire died till nothing was left but falling ash  and sparks; a bitter smoke curled above the burned tree-stumps, and blew darkly from the hill, as the first  light of dawn came dimly in the  sky. Their enemies were routed and did not return.      `What did I  tell  you,  Mr. Pippin?  ' said Sam, she/thing his  sword. `Wolves won't get him. That was an eye-opener, and no mistake! Nearly singed the hair off my head!'      When  the full light of the morning came no signs of the wolves were to be found, and they  looked in vain for the  bodies of the  dead. No trace of the fight remained but the  charred trees and the arrows of Legolas lying on the hill-top. All were undamaged save one of which only the point was left.      `It is as  I feared,'  said Gandalf.  `These  were no  ordinary  wolves hunting for food in the wilderness. Let us eat quickly and go!'      That day  the weather changed again, almost as if it was at the command of some power that had no longer  any use for snow, since they had retreated from the pass, a power that wished now to have a clear light in which things that  moved  in the  wild could be  seen from far away.  The  wind  had been turning through north to north-west during the night, and now it failed. The clouds  vanished southwards and the sky was opened, high and blue.  As  they stood upon the hill-side, ready to depart, a pale sunlight gleamed over  the mountain-tops.      `We must reach  the doors before sunset,' said Gandalf,  'or I  fear we shall not reach them at all. It is not far, but our path may be winding, for here Aragorn cannot guide us; he has seldom walked in this country, and only once have I been under the west wall of Moria, and that was long ago.      `There  it lies,' he said,  pointing away south-eastwards to where  the mountains' sides fell sheer into the shadows at their feet.  In the distance could  be dimly seen a line of bare cliffs,  and in their midst, taller than the rest, one great grey wall. `When we left the pass I  led you southwards, and not  back to  our starting point, as some of you may have noticed. It is
  569. well that I  did so, for now we have several miles less to cross, and  haste is needed. Let us go! '      `I do not know which to hope,' said  Boromir grimly: `that Gandalf will find what he seeks, or that coming to the cliff we shall find the gates lost for ever. All choices seem ill, and to be caught between wolves and the wall the likeliest chance. Lead on!'      Gimli now walked ahead by the wizard's side, so eager was he to come to Moria. Together they led  the Company back towards the  mountains. The  only road of old  to Moria from the  west  had lain along the course of a stream, the Sirannon,  that ran out from the feet of the cliffs near where the doors had stood.  But either Gandalf was astray,  or  else the land had changed in recent years; for he did not strike the stream where he  looked to  find it, only a few miles southwards from their start.      The morning was  passing towards noon,  and still the  Company wandered and scrambled in a barren country  of red stones. Nowhere could they see any gleam of  water or hear any sound of it. All was bleak and dry. Their hearts sank.  They saw no living thing, and not a bird was in the sky; but what the night  would bring, if it caught them in that  lost land, none of them cared to think.      Suddenly Gimli, who  had pressed on ahead, called back  to them. He was standing  on a knoll and pointing to the  right. Hurrying up they saw  below them  a  deep and narrow channel. It was  empty and  silent,  and  hardly  a trickle of water flowed among the  brown and red-stained  stones of its bed; but  on the  near side there was a path, much broken and decayed, that wound its way among the ruined walls and paving-stones of an ancient highroad.      'Ah! Here it is at last! ' said Gandalf. `This is where the stream ran: Sirannon, the  Gate-stream, they used  to call  it. But what has happened to the water,  I cannot guess; it used  to  be swift  and noisy.  Come! We must hurry on. We are late.'      The Company were  footsore and tired; but they  trudged  doggedly along the rough and winding track for many miles. The sun turned from the noon and began  to go west. After  a brief halt  and a hasty meal they went on again. Before them the  mountains frowned, but  their path lay in a deep  trough of land  and  they  could  see only  the higher shoulders and the  far eastward peaks.      At length they came  to a sharp  bend. There  the road, which had  been veering southwards between the brink of the channel and  a steep fall of the
  570. land to the left, turned and went due east again. Rounding  the corner  they saw  before them a  low  cliff, some  five fathoms  high, with a  broken and jagged  top. Over  it  a trickling water  dripped, through a wide cleft that seemed to have been carved out by a fall that had once been strong and full.      `Indeed things have changed! ' said Gandalf. `But there is no mistaking the  place.  There  is  all  that remains of the  Stair Falls. If I remember right, there was  a flight of steps cut  in the  rock at their side, but the main road  wound away left and climbed with several  loops  up  to the level ground at  the top. There used to be a shallow valley beyond the falls right up to the Walls of  Moria, and the Sirannon flowed  through it with the road beside it. Let us go and see what things are like now! '      They found the stone steps without difficulty, and Gimli sprang swiftly up them,  followed by Gandalf and Frodo.  When they reached the top they saw that  they could go no further that way, and the reason for the drying up of the Gate-stream was revealed. Behind  them the sinking Sun filled  the  cool western sky with glimmering  gold. Before them stretched a dark still  lake. Neither sky nor sunset was reflected on its sullen surface. The Sirannon had been dammed  and had filled  all the valley.  Beyond the  ominous water were reared vast cliffs, their stern faces pallid in  the fading light: final and impassable. No sign of gate or entrance,  not a fissure or crack could Frodo see in the frowning stone.      `There  are  the  Walls  of  Moria,' said Gandalf,  pointing across the water. `And there the Gate stood once upon a time, the Elven Door at the end of the road from Hollin by which we have come. But this way is blocked. None of  the Company, I guess, will wish to swim this gloomy water at the end  of the day. It has an unwholesome look.'      `We  must find a way round the northern  edge,' said Gimli. `The  first thing for the  Company to  do is to climb up  by the main path and see where that  will lead us.  Even  if  there were  no  lake,  we could not  get  our baggage-pony up this stair.'      `But in any  case we cannot take the poor  beast  into the Mines,' said Gandalf. `The road under the mountains is a dark road, and there are  places narrow and steep which he cannot tread, even if we can.'      `Poor old Bill! ' said Frodo. `I had not thought of that. And poor Sam! I wonder what he will say? '      `I am sorry,' said Gandalf. `Poor Bill has  been a useful companion and it goes  to  my heart to turn him adrift now. I would have travelled lighter
  571. and brought no animal, least of  all  this one that Sam is fond of, if I had had my way. I feared all along that we should be obliged to take this road.'      The day was drawing to its end, and cold stars were glinting in the sky high above the sunset, when the  Company,  with all  the speed  they  could, climbed up the slopes and reached the side of the lake. In breadth it looked to be no  more  than two or three furlongs at the widest point.  How far  it stretched  away  southward they could  not see in the failing light; but its northern end was no more than half a mile from where they stood, and between the  stony ridges  that enclosed the valley and the water's edge there was a rim of open ground. They hurried forward, for they had still  a mile  or two to go  before they could reach the point on the  far shore that  Gandalf was making for; and then he had still to find the doors.      When  they came to the northernmost corner of  the  lake  they  found a narrow creek that  barred their way. It was green and stagnant,  thrust  out like  a  slimy  arm  towards  the  enclosing  hills.  Gimli  strode  forward undeterred, and found that the water was shallow, no more than ankle-deep at the edge. Behind him they walked in file, threading their way with care, for under  the  weedy  pools were sliding  and  greasy  stones, and footing  was treacherous. Frodo shuddered  with disgust at  the touch of the dark unclean water on his feet.      As  Sam,  the last of the Company, led Bill up  on to the dry ground on the  far side, there came a soft sound: a swish, followed by a plop, as if a fish had disturbed the still surface of  the water. Turning quickly they saw ripples, black-edged  with shadow in  the  waning  light: great  rings  were widening outwards from  a point far out in the lake.  There  was  a bubbling noise, and then silence.  The  dusk  deepened, and  the  last gleams of  the sunset were veiled in cloud.      Gandalf  now  pressed on  at  a great pace, and the  others followed as quickly as they could. They reached the strip of dry  land between  the lake and the cliffs: it  was  narrow,  often  hardly  a  dozen yards  across, and encumbered  with fallen  rock  and stones; but they found a way, hugging the cliff,  and  keeping  as  far  from the  dark water as  they might.  A  mile southwards  along  the shore  they  came upon holly trees.  Stumps  and dead boughs were rotting  in the shallows, the remains it seemed of old thickets, or of a hedge that had once lined the  road  across the drowned valley.  But close under the cliff  there  stood,  still strong and  living,  . two  tall trees, larger than any trees of holly that Frodo  had ever seen or imagined.
  572. Their  great  roots spread  from the  wall to the  water. Under the  looming cliffs  they had looked like mere bushes, when seen  far off from the top of the Stair; but now they  towered overhead, stiff, dark, and silent, throwing deep night-shadows about their feet,  standing  like sentinel pillars at the end of the road.      `Well, here  we are at last!  ' said  Gandalf. 'Here the Elven-way from Hollin ended. Holly  was  the  token  of the  people of that land, and  they planted it here to mark the end of their  domain; for the West-door was made chiefly for their  use in their traffic with the Lords of Moria. Those  were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folk of different race, even between Dwarves and Elves.'      'It was not  the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship  waned,' said Gimli.      'I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves,' said Legolas.      'I have heard both,' said Gandalf; 'and I will not give judgement  now. But I beg you two, Legolas  and Gimli, at least  to  be friends, and to help me. I need you  both. The  doors are shut and hidden, and the sooner we find them the better. Night is at hand! '      Turning to  the others he said:  'While I  am  searching, will you each make ready to enter the  Mines? For here I fear we  must say farewell to our good  beast of burden. You must lay aside much  of the stuff that we brought against  bitter weather:  you will  not need it inside, nor, I hope, when we come through  and journey on down  into the South.  Instead each of us  must take  a  share  of  what  the pony  carried,  especially  the food  and  the water-skins.'      'But you can't  leave poor old Bill behind in this forsaken  place, Mr. Gandalf! ' cried Sam,  angry and  distressed.  `I won't have  it, and that's flat. After he has come so far and all! '      'I am sorry, Sam,'  said the wizard. `But when the  Door opens I do not think  you will  be able  to  drag your Bill  inside, into  the long dark of Moria. You will have to choose between Bill and your master.'      'He'd  follow Mr. Frodo into  a dragon's  den, if I led him,' protested Sam.  `It'd  be nothing short  of murder  to turn  him loose with  all these wolves about.'      'It will be short of murder, I hope,' said Gandalf. He laid his hand on the pony's head, and spoke  in  a  low voice. `Go with  words  of  guard and guiding on you,' he said. `You are a wise  beast, and  have  learned much in
  573. Rivendell. Make your ways to places where you can find grass, and so come in time to Elrond's house, or wherever you wish to go.      `There, Sam! He will have quite as  much chance of escaping wolves  and getting home as we have.'      Sam stood sullenly by the pony and returned no answer. Bill, seeming to understand well what  was going on, nuzzled up to  him,  putting his nose to Sam's  ear. Sam burst into tears, and  fumbled with the straps, unlading all the pony's packs and throwing them on the ground. The others  sorted out the goods, making a  pile of all that could be left behind,  and dividing up the rest.      When this was  done  they turned to watch Gandalf. He  appeared to have done nothing. He was standing between the two trees gazing at the blank wall of the cliff, as if he  would bore a hole  into it  with his eyes. Gimli was wandering about, tapping the stone here  and there with his axe. Legolas was pressed against the rock, as if listening.      'Well, here  we are and all ready,'  said  Merry;  `but  where  are the Doors? I can't see any sign of them.'      'Dwarf-doors are  not made to be seen when shut,' said Gimli. `They are invisible, and their own  masters cannot  find them or  open them,  if their secret is forgotten.'      'But this Door was not made to be a secret known only to Dwarves,' said Gandalf, coming  suddenly to  life and turning  round.  `Unless  things  are altogether changed, eyes that know what to look for may discover the signs.'      He walked forward  to the wall. Right  between the shadow  of the trees there  was a smooth space,  and over this he passed  his  hands to and  fro, muttering words under his breath. Then he stepped back.      'Look!' he said. `Can you see anything now?'      The Moon  now shone upon the grey face of the  rock; but they could see nothing else for a  while.  Then slowly on the surface, where  the  wizard's hands had passed, faint lines appeared, like slender veins of silver running in the stone. At first they were no more than pale gossamer-threads, so fine that they only twinkled fitfully where the Moon  caught  them,  but steadily they grew broader and clearer, until their design could be guessed.
  574.  
  575.      At the top, as high as Gandalf could reach, was  an arch of interlacing letters in an Elvish  character. Below,  though  the threads were in  places blurred  or  broken,  the  outline could be seen of an  anvil  and  a hammer
  576. surmounted by a crown with seven  stars. Beneath these again were two trees, each bearing crescent moons. More clearly than all else there shone forth in the middle of the door a single star with many rays.      `There are the emblems of Durin!' cried Gimli.      `And there is the Tree of the High Elves!' said Legolas.      `And the Star of the House of Flanor,' said Gandalf. `They  are wrought of  ithildin that mirrors only starlight  and moonlight, and sleeps until it is touched by one who speaks words now long forgotten in Middle-earth. It is long since I heard them, and I thought deeply  before I could recall them to my mind.'      'What does the writing  say?' asked  Frodo, who was trying  to decipher the inscription on the arch. 'I thought I knew the elf-letters but  I cannot read these.'      `The words are in  the elven-tongue of the West of  Middle-earth in the Elder Days,' answered Gandalf.  'But they do not say anything  of importance to us.  They say only: The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.  And  underneath  small and faint  is written:  I, Narvi,  made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.'      `What does it mean by speak, friend, and enter?' asked Merry.      'That is plain enough,'  said  Gimli. `If  you are a friend,  speak the password, and the doors will open, and you can enter.'      'Yes,' said Gandalf, 'these doors are probably  governed by words. Some dwarf-gates will open only at special times, or for  particular persons; and some have locks and keys that  are still needed when all necessary times and words are known. These doors have no key. In the days of Durin they were not secret. They usually  stood  open  and doorwards sat here. But  if they were shut, any who  knew the opening word could speak it and pass in. At least so it is recorded, is it not, Gimli? '      'It is,' said the dwarf. `But what the  word  was  is  not  remembered. Narvi and his craft and all his kindred have vanished from the earth.'      'But do not you know the word, Gandalf? ' asked Boromir in surprise.      `No! ' said the wizard.      The others looked  dismayed;  only  Aragorn,  who  knew  Gandalf  well, remained silent and unmoved.      'Then  what was  the use of bringing us to this  accursed spot?'  cried Boromir, glancing back with a shudder at  the dark water. `You  told us that you had  once passed  through the  Mines. How  could that be, if you did not
  577. know how to enter? '      `The answer to your first question, Boromir,' said the wizard, `is that I do not know the word-yet. But we shall soon see.  And,' he added,  with  a glint in his eyes under their bristling brows, 'you may ask what  is the use of my deeds when they are proved useless. As for your other question: do you doubt  my  tale? Or have you no wits left? I did  not enter this way. I came from the East.      `If you wish to know, I will tell you that these doors  open  outwards. From the inside you may thrust them open with  your  hands. From the outside nothing  will move  them  save  the spell of command.  They cannot be forced inwards.'      `What  are  you going  to do  then? '  asked  Pippin, undaunted  by the wizard's bristling brows.      `Knock on  the doors with your head, Peregrin Took,' said Gandalf. `But if that does not shatter them, and I  am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will seek for the opening words.      `I  once knew every spell in all the tongues  of Elves or  Men  or Orcs that was  ever  used for such a purpose. I can still  remember  ten score of them  without searching in  my mind. But only a few trials, I think, will be needed;  and I  shall not  have  to call on  Gimli for  words  of the secret dwarf-tongue  that  they  teach to none. The opening words were Elvish, like the writing on the arch: that seems certain.'      He stepped up to the rock again, and lightly touched with his staff the silver star in the middle beneath the sign of the anvil.      Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen!      Fennas nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!      he said  in a commanding voice.  The silver lines faded, but the  blank grey stone did not stir.      Many times he  repeated these words in different order, or varied them. Then  he tried other spells.  one  after another,  speaking  now faster  and louder, now soft and slow. Then he spoke many single words of Elvish speech. Nothing happened. The cliff towered into the night, the countless stars were kindled, the wind blew cold, and the doors stood fast.      Again Gandalf approached the  wall, and lifting up his arms he spoke in tones of command and rising wrath. Edro, edro! he cried, and struck the rock with  his  staff.  Open,  open! he shouted, and followed  it with  the  same command  in  every  language that had  ever  been  spoken  in  the  West  of
  578. Middle-earth.  Then he  threw  his  staff  on the  ground, and  sat down  in silence.      At that moment from far off the  wind bore to their listening ears  the howling of wolves. Bill the pony started in fear, and Sam sprang to his side and whispered softly to him.      'Do not let him run away! ' said Boromir. 'It seems that we  shall need him still, if the wolves do not  find us. How  I  hate  this foul pool! ' He stooped and picking up a large stone he cast it far into the dark water.      The stone vanished with a soft slap; but at  the same instant there was a swish and a bubble. Great rippling rings formed on the surface  out beyond where the stone had fallen, and they moved slowly towards  the  foot  of the cliff.      'Why did  you do  that, Boromir? ' said Frodo. `I hate this place, too, and I am afraid. I don't know of what: not of wolves, or the dark behind the doors, but of something else. I am afraid of the pool. Don't disturb it! '      'l wish we could get away! ' said Merry.      'Why doesn't Gandalf do something quick? ' said Pippin.      Gandalf took no notice of them. He sat  with his head bowed,  either in despair or in anxious thought. The mournful howling of the wolves was  heard again. The ripples  on the water  grew and came  closer;  some were  already lapping on the shore.      With a suddenness that startled them all the wizard sprang to his feet. He was laughing! `I have it! '  he  cried. 'Of  course, of  course! Absurdly simple, like most riddles when you see the answer.'      Picking up  his  staff he  stood before  the rock and  said  in a clear voice: Mellon!      The  star  shone  out briefly  and faded again.  Then silently  a great doorway was  outlined, though not a  crack or joint had been visible before. Slowly it divided in the middle and swung outwards inch  by inch, until both doors lay back against the wall.  Through the opening a shadowy stair  could be seen climbing steeply up; but  beyond the  lower  steps the darkness  was deeper than the night. The Company stared in wonder.      `I was wrong after all,' said  Gandalf, 'and Gimli  too. Merry, of  all people, was on  the  right track.  The  opening word  was  inscribed on  the archway  all the time!  The translation  should have been:  Say "Friend" and enter. I had only to speak the Elvish word for friend and the  doors opened. Quite simple. Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days.
  579. Those were happier times. Now let us go!'      He strode  forward  and  set his foot  on the lowest  step. But at that moment several things happened. Frodo felt something seize him by the ankle, and he fell with a cry. Bill  the pony gave a wild neigh of fear, and turned tail and dashed away along the lakeside into the darkness. Sam leaped  after him, and  then hearing Frodo's cry  he ran back again, weeping  and cursing. The others swung round and saw the waters of the lake seething, as if a host of snakes were swimming up from the southern end.      Out  from  the  water  a  long sinuous  tentacle had  crawled;  it  was pale-green  and luminous and wet.  Its fingered end had hold of Frodo's foot and was dragging him into the water. Sam on his knees was now slashing at it with a knife.      The arm  let go of Frodo, and Sam pulled him away, crying out for help. Twenty others arms came rippling out. The dark water boiled, and there was a hideous stench.      `Into  the gateway!  Up  the stairs!  Quick! ' shouted Gandalf  leaping back. Rousing them from the horror that seemed to have rooted all but Sam to the ground where they stood, he drove them forward.      They were  just in time. Sam and  Frodo were  only  a few steps up, and Gandalf had just  begun to climb, when the groping tentacles writhed  across the  narrow  shore  and  fingered  the cliff-wall  and  the  doors. One came wriggling over  the  threshold, glistening in  the starlight. Gandalf turned and paused. If he  was considering what word would close the gate again from within, there  was no  need. Many  coiling  arms seized the  doors on either side, and with horrible strength, swung them round.  With a shattering  echo they slammed,  and all  light was lost. A noise of rending and crashing came dully through the ponderous stone.      Sam,  clinging  to  Frodo's arm, collapsed  on  a  step  in  the  black darkness.  `Poor old  Bill!  ' he said in a choking  voice. `Poor  old Bill! Wolves  and snakes! But the snakes were too much for him.  I  had to choose, Mr. Frodo. I had to come with you.'      They heard Gandalf go back down  the steps and thrust his staff against the doors. There was a quiver in the stone and the stairs trembled, .but the doors did  not open. `Well, well! ' said the wizard. `The passage is blocked behind  us now  and there is only one  way  out--on  the other  side  of the mountains. I fear from the sounds that  boulders have been piled up, and the trees  uprooted and thrown across the gate. I  am sorry; for the trees  were
  580. beautiful, and had stood so long.'      `I felt that  something horrible was near from  the moment that my foot first  touched the water,'  said Frodo. 'What  was the  thing, or were there many of them? '      'I do not know,' answered Gandalf, 'but the arms were all guided by one purpose.  Something has  crept, or has  been driven out of dark waters under the mountains.  There  are  older and  fouler things  than  Orcs in the deep places of  the world.'  He did not speak aloud his thought that whatever  it was  that dwelt  in the lake, it had  seized  on Frodo  first among  all the Company.      Boromir muttered under  his breath, but the echoing stone magnified the sound to a  hoarse  whisper  that all could hear: `In the deep places of the world!  And thither we are going against my wish.  Who will lead  us  now in this deadly dark? '      'I will,' said Gandalf, 'and Gimli shall walk with me. Follow my staff! '      As  the wizard passed  on ahead up  the great steps, he held  his staff aloft, and from its tip there came  a faint radiance. The wide  stairway was sound and undamaged. Two hundred steps they counted, broad and shallow;  and at the top they found  an arched  passage with a level floor leading on into the dark.      `Let us  sit and rest and  have  something to eat, here on the landing, since  we can't find a dining-room! ' said  Frodo. He had begun to shake off the terror of the clutching arm, and suddenly he felt extremely hungry.      The proposal was welcomed by all; and they sat down on the upper steps, dim figures  in the gloom. After they had eaten,  Gandalf gave  them each  a third sip of the miruvor of Rivendell.      `It will not last much longer, I am  afraid,' he said; 'but I  think we need it after that horror at  the gate. And unless we have  great  luck,  we shall need all that is left before we see the other side! Go  carefully with the water, too!  There are  many streams  and wells in  the Mines,  but they should not be touched. We  may  not  have a chance of filling  our skins and bottles till we come down into Dimrill Dale.'      'How long is that going to take us? ' asked Frodo.      'I  cannot  say,'  answered Gandalf.  'It depends  on many chances. But going straight,  without mishap  or  losing our  way, we shall take three or
  581. four marches, I expect. It cannot be less than forty miles from West-door to East-gate in a direct line, and the road may wind much.'      After only a brief rest they started on their way again. All were eager to  get the journey over as quickly  as possible, and were willing, tired as they  were, to go on  marching  still for  several hours. Gandalf  walked in front as before. In his left hand he held up his glimmering staff, the light of which just showed the ground before  his feet; in his right he  held  his sword Glamdring.  Behind him came Gimli, his eyes glinting in  the dim light as he turned his head from side to side. Behind the dwarf  walked Frodo, and he had drawn the short sword, Sting. No gleam came from the blades of  Sting or of  Glamdring;  and  that was some comfort, for being the work of  Elvish smiths in  the Elder  Days these swords shone with a cold light, if any Orcs were near  at hand. Behind Frodo went Sam, and after  him  Legolas,  and the young hobbits, and Boromir. In the dark at the rear, grim and silent, walked Aragorn.      The passage  twisted  round a few  turns, and then began to descend. It went steadily down for  a long while before it became level once again.  The air grew  hot and  stifling, but  it was  not  foul, and at times they  felt currents of cooler air upon  their faces, issuing from half-guessed openings in the walls.  There  were  many of  these. In the  pale ray of the wizard's staff, Frodo caught glimpses of stairs and arches and of  other passages and tunnels, sloping  up,  or  running steeply down, or opening  blankly dark on either side. It was bewildering beyond hope of remembering.      Gimli aided Gandalf very little, except by his stout  courage. At least he  was not,  as  were most of the  others, troubled by the mere darkness in itself. Often the wizard consulted him at points where the choice of way was doubtful; but it was  always  Gandalf who had the final word. The  Mines  of Moria were vast and intricate beyond the imagination  of Gimli, Gluin's son, dwarf of the mountain-race though he was. To Gandalf the far-off memories of a  journey long  before were now of little help, but  even  in the gloom and despite all windings of the road he knew whither he wished to go, and he did not falter, as long as there was a path that led towards his goal.      `Do not be afraid! ' said Aragorn. There was a pause longer than usual, and Gandalf and Gimli were  whispering  together; the  others  were  crowded behind, waiting anxiously. `Do not be afraid! I have been with him on many a journey,  if  never on  one so dark; and  there  are tales  of  Rivendell of greater  deeds  of his than any that I have seen. He  will  not go astray-if
  582. there is any path to find. He has  led us in here  against our fears, but he will lead us out again, at whatever cost to himself. He is  surer of finding the way home in a blind night than the cats of Queen Ber®thiel.'      It was well for  the Company that  they  had such  a guide. They had no fuel nor any means of making torches; in the desperate scramble at the doors many things had been left behind. But without any light they would soon have come  to grief. There  were not only  many roads  to choose from, there were also  in many places holes and pitfalls, and dark wells beside  the  path in which their passing feet echoed. There were fissures and chasms in the walls and floor, and  every  now  and  then  a crack would open right before their feet.  The widest was more than seven  feet across, and it  was long  before Pippin could summon enough courage to leap over the dreadful gap.  The noise of churning water came  up from  far below, as if  some great mill-wheel was turning in the depths.      `Rope! ' muttered Sam. `I knew I'd want it, if I hadn't got it! '      As  these  dangers  became  more frequent  their  march became  slower. Already  they  seemed  to  have  been  tramping  on, on,  endlessly  to  the mountains' roots. They were more than weary, and yet there seemed no comfort in  the thought of halting anywhere. Frodo's  spirits had risen  for a while after his escape, and  after food and a draught  of the  cordial; but  now a deep uneasiness, growing to  dread, crept over him again. Though he had been healed  in  Rivendell  of the  knife-stroke,  that grim  wound had  not been without effect. His senses were sharper and more aware  of things that could not be seen. One sign of change that he soon had noticed  was that he  could see more in the  dark  than any of his companions, save perhaps Gandalf. And he was  in any case  the bearer of the Ring: it hung upon its chain  against his breast, and at whiles it seemed a heavy weight. He felt the certainty of evil ahead and of evil following; but he said nothing. He gripped tighter on the hilt of his sword and went on doggedly.      The Company behind him spoke seldom, and then only in hurried whispers. There  was  no  sound  but  the  sound of  their own feet; the dull stump of Gimli's dwarf-boots; the heavy tread of Boromir; the  light step of Legolas; the soft, scarce-heard patter of hobbit-feet; and in the rear  the slow firm footfalls of  Aragorn with his  long stride.  When they halted  for a moment they  heard nothing  at all, unless it were occasionally a faint trickle and drip of unseen water. Yet Frodo began to hear, or to imagine  that he heard, something else:  like the faint  fall of soft bare feet. It  was  never loud
  583. enough, or near  enough, for him to  feel certain that he heard it; but once it had started it never stopped, while  the Company was moving. But  it  was not an echo, for when they halted it pattered on for a little all by itself, and then grew still.      It was after nightfall when they had  entered the  Mines. They had been going for several hours with only  brief  halts,  when Gandalf came  to  his first serious check.  Before  him stood a wide dark arch  opening into three passages: all  led  in  the  same  general  direction,  eastwards;  but  the left-hand  passage plunged  down, while the right-hand climbed up,  and  the middle way seemed to run on, smooth and level but very narrow.      'I  have no  memory of this  place  at all! '  said  Gandalf,  standing uncertainly under the arch. He held up his staff in the hope of finding some marks or inscription that might help his choice; but nothing of the kind was to be seen. `I am too  weary to decide,'  he said, shaking his head. `And  I expect  that you are all as weary  as I  am, or wearier.  We had better halt here for what is left of the night. You know what I mean! In here it is ever dark; but outside the late Moon is riding westward and  the middle-night has passed.'      `Poor old Bill! ' said Sam. 'I wonder where he is. I hope  those wolves haven't got him yet.'      To the  left of  the great arch  they  found a stone door:  it was half closed, but swung back easily to a gentle thrust. Beyond there seemed to lie a wide chamber cut in the rock.      `Steady! Steady!  ' cried  Gandalf as Merry and  Pippin pushed forward, glad to find a place where  they could  rest  with  at least more feeling of shelter than  in  the open passage. `Steady! You do  not know what is inside yet. I will go first.'      He went in cautiously, and the others filed behind. `There! '  he said, pointing with his staff to the middle of the floor. Before his feet they saw a large round hole like the  mouth of a well. Broken and rusty chains lay at the edge and trailed down into the black pit. Fragments of stone lay near.      'One of you might have fallen in and  still be wondering  when you were going to strike the bottom,' said Aragorn to Merry. 'Let  the guide go first while you have one.'      'This seems  to  have been a guardroom, made for  the  watching  of the three passages,'  said Gimli. `That hole was plainly a  well for the guards' use, covered with a stone lid. But the  lid is broken, and we  must all take
  584. care in the dark.'      Pippin  felt  curiously attracted by  the  well. While the  others were unrolling  blankets and making beds against the walls of the chamber, as far as  possible from the hole in  the floor, he crept  to the  edge  and peered over. A chill air seemed to  strike his face,  rising from invisible depths. Moved by  a sudden impulse he groped for a loose  stone, and let it drop. He felt  his heart beat many times before there was any sound. Then  far below, as if  the stone had fallen into deep water in  some cavernous place,  there came a plunk, very distant, but magnified and repeated in the hollow shaft.      `What's that? ' cried Gandalf.  He was relieved  when  Pippin confessed what he had done; but he was angry, and Pippin could see  his  eye glinting. 'Fool  of a Took!  '  he growled. 'This  is a serious journey,  not a hobbit walking-party. Throw yourself in next time, and  then you will be no further nuisance. Now be quiet! '      Nothing more was heard for several  minutes; but then there came out of the depths faint knocks: tom-tap, tap-tom. They stopped, and when the echoes had  died away, they  were repeated:  tap-tom,  tom-tap, tap-tap, tom.  They sounded  disquietingly  like signals of  some  sort;  but after a  while the knocking died away and was not heard again.      'That  was  the  sound of a  hammer, or I have never heard  one,'  said Gimli.      `Yes,' said  Gandalf, 'and I do not like it. It may  have nothing to do with Peregrin's  foolish  stone; but  probably something  has been disturbed that would have been better left quiet.  Pray, do nothing of the kind again! Let us hope we shall get some rest without further trouble. You, Pippin, can go on the first watch, as a  reward,' he growled, as he  rolled himself in a blanket.      Pippin  sat  miserably  by  the door in  the pitch dark; but he kept on turning  round, fearing  that some unknown thing would  crawl  up out of the well.  He  wished he could cover  the  hole,  if only with a blanket, but he dared not move or go near it, even though Gandalf seemed to be asleep.      Actually Gandalf was awake, though  lying still and silent. He was deep in  thought,  trying  to recall  every memory of  his former journey in  the Mines,  and considering  anxiously  the next  course  that he should take; a false turn now might be disastrous.  After an hour  he rose up and came over to Pippin.      `Get into a corner and have a sleep, my lad,' he said in a kindly tone.
  585. 'You want to sleep, I expect. I cannot get a wink, so  I may  as well do the watching.'      'I know what is the matter with me,' he muttered, as he sat down by the door.  'I  need  smoke!  I have not tasted  it since the morning  before the snowstorm.'      The  last thing that Pippin saw, as sleep took  him, was a dark glimpse of  the  old  wizard huddled on  the floor,  shielding a glowing chip in his gnarled hands  between his knees.  The flicker for a moment showed his sharp nose. and the puff of smoke.      It was  Gandalf who roused them all from sleep. He  had sat and watched all alone for  about six hours, and had let  the others  rest.  `And  in the watches I have  made up my mind,' he  said. `I do  not  like the feel of the middle way; and  I do not like the smell of the left-hand way: there is foul air down there, or I am no guide. I shall take the right-hand passage. It is time we began to climb up again.'      For eight dark hours, not counting two brief  halts,  they marched  on; and they met no  danger, and heard nothing, and  saw nothing  but the  faint gleam  of  the wizard's  light, bobbing like  a will-o'-the-wisp in front of them. The passage  they  had  chosen wound steadily upwards. As  far as they could judge it went in great mounting curves, and as it rose it grew loftier and wider.  There  were  now no openings  to  other galleries or  tunnels on either side, and the floor  was level  and sound,  without  pits or  cracks. Evidently  they had struck  what once had  been an important road; and  they went forward quicker than they had done on their first march.      In this way they advanced some fifteen miles, measured in a direct line east, though  they must have actually walked twenty miles  or  more. As  the road climbed  upwards`  Frodo's spirits rose  a little;  but he  still  felt oppressed, and still at times he heard, or thought he heard, away behind the Company and beyond the fall and patter of  their feet, a following  footstep that was not an echo.      They had marched as far as the hobbits could endure without a rest, and all were thinking of a place where they could sleep, when suddenly the walls to  right and left vanished. They seemed to have passed through some  arched doorway into a black and empty space. There  was  a great draught of  warmer air behind them, and before  them the darkness was cold on their faces. They halted and crowded anxiously together.      Gandalf seemed pleased. `I chose the right way,'  he said. `At  last we
  586. are  coming to the habitable parts, and I guess that we are not far now from the eastern side. But we are  high up, a good deal higher than  the  Dimrill Gate, unless I am mistaken. From the feeling of the air we must be in a wide hall. I will now risk a little real light.'      He  raised his staff,  and for a  brief instant there was blaze  like a flash  of lightning. Great shadows sprang up and fled, and for a second they saw a vast roof  far above their heads upheld by many mighty pillars hewn of stone. Before them and on either side stretched a huge empty hall; its black walls, polished  and smooth  as  glass, flashed and glittered.  Three  other entrances  they saw, dark black  arches: one straight before them eastwards, and one on either side. Then the light went out.      `That  is all that I shall venture on for the  present,' said  Gandalf. 'There used to be great windows on the mountain-side, and shafts leading out to the light in the upper reaches of the Mines. I think we have reached them now, but it is  night outside again, and we  cannot tell until morning. If I am right, tomorrow we may  actually see  the morning peeping  in. But in the meanwhile we had better go  no further. Let  us rest, if we can. Things have gone well  so far, and the greater part of the dark road is over. But we are not through yet, and it is a long way down to the  Gates  that open  on  the world.'      The Company spent that night in the great cavernous hall, huddled close together  in a corner  to escape  the draught:  there seemed  to be a steady inflow of chill air through the eastern archway. All about them as  they lay hung the darkness,  hollow and  immense,  and  they  were  oppressed by  the loneliness and vastness of  the dolven halls and endlessly branching  stairs and passages. The wildest imaginings  that dark rumour had ever suggested to the hobbits fell altogether short of the actual dread and wonder of Moria.      `There must have been a mighty crowd of dwarves here at one time ' said Sam; `and every one  of them busier  than badgers for five  hundred years to make all this, and most in hard rock too! What did they do it all for?  They didn't live in these darksome holes surely? '      `These are not holes,' said Gimli. `This is the great realm and city of the Dwarrowdelf. And  of  old  it was  not  darksome, but  full of light and splendour, as is still remembered in our songs.'      He rose  and standing in the dark he  began to  chant in a  deep voice, while the echoes ran away into the roof.      The world was young, the mountains green,
  587.      No stain yet on the Moon was seen,      No words were laid on stream or stone      When Durin woke and walked alone.      He named the nameless hills and dells;      He drank from yet untasted wells;      He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,      And saw a crown of stars appear,      As gems upon a silver thread,      Above the shadow of his head.
  588.  
  589.      The world was fair, the mountains tall,      In Elder Days before the fall      Of mighty kings in Nargothrond      And Gondolin, who now beyond      The Western Seas have passed away:      The world was fair in Durin's Day.
  590.  
  591.      A king he was on carven throne      In many-pillared halls of stone      With golden roof and silver floor,      And runes of power upon the door.      The light of sun and star and moon      In shining lamps of crystal hewn      Undimmed by cloud or shade of night      There shone for ever fair and bright.
  592.  
  593.      There hammer on the anvil smote,      There chisel clove, and graver wrote;      There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;      The delver mined, the mason built.      There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,      And metal wrought like fishes' mail,      Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,      And shining spears were laid in hoard.
  594.  
  595.      Unwearied then were Durin's folk      Beneath the mountains music woke:
  596.      The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,      And at the gates the trumpets rang.
  597.  
  598.      The world is grey, the mountains old,      The forge's fire is ashen-cold      No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:      The darkness dwells in Durin's halls      The shadow lies upon his tomb      In Moria, in Khazad-dym.      But still the sunken stars appear      In dark and windless Mirrormere;      There lies his crown in water deep,      Till Durin wakes again from sleep.      `I like  that! ' said Sam. `I  should  like  to learn it. In Moria,  in Khazad-dym!  But it makes the darkness seem heavier, thinking  of all  those lamps. Are there piles of jewels and gold lying about here still? '      Gimli was silent. Having sung his song he would say no more.      `Piles  of jewels? ' said  Gandalf. `No. The Orcs have often  plundered Moria; there is nothing left in the upper halls. And since the dwarves fled, no one dares to seek the shafts and treasuries down in the deep places: they are drowned in water--or in a shadow of fear.'      `Then what do the dwarves want to come back for? ' asked Sam.      'For mithril,' answered  Gandalf. `The  wealth of Moria was not in gold and jewels, the toys of the Dwarves; nor in iron, their servant. Such things they found here, it is true, especially iron; but they did not need to delve for  them:  all things that they  desired they could obtain in  traffic. For here alone in the world was found Moria-silver, or true-silver as some  have called it: mithril is the Elvish name. The Dwarves have a name which they do not tell. Its worth was  ten times that of gold, and now it is beyond price; for little is left above  ground, and even the Orcs dare not  delve here for it. The lodes lead away  north towards  Caradhras, and down to darkness. The Dwarves  tell  no tale;  but  even as  mithril  was the  foundation of their wealth, so  also it was their destruction: they delved too greedily and  too deep,  and disturbed that from which they fled,  Durin's  Bane. Of what they brought to light the Orcs  have gathered nearly all, and given it in tribute to Sauron, who covets it.      `Mithril!  All  folk desired it.  It could be  beaten  like copper, and
  599. polished like glass; and the Dwarves could make of it a metal, light and yet harder  than tempered steel. Its beauty  was like to  that of common silver, but  the  beauty  of mithril did not tarnish  or grow dim.  The Elves dearly loved it, and among many uses they  made of it ithildin, starmoon, which you saw  upon  the doors. Bilbo had a  corslet of mithril-rings that Thorin gave him. I wonder what has become of it? Gathering dust  still in Michel Delving Mathom-house, I suppose.'      `What?  ' cried  Gimli,  startled  out of  his  silence. `A  corslet of Moria-silver? That was a kingly gift! '      'Yes,' said  Gandalf. `I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the whole Shire and everything in it.'      Frodo said nothing, but he put his hand under his tunic and touched the rings of his mail-shirt. He felt staggered to think that he had been walking about with the price of the Shire under his jacket. Had Bilbo known? He felt no doubt that Bilbo knew quite  well.  It was indeed a kingly gift. But  now his thoughts  had been carried away  from the dark  Mines, to  Rivendell, to Bilbo,  and to Bag  End in  the days while Bilbo was  still there. He wished with  all his  heart  that he was back  there, and in those days, mowing the lawn, or pottering among the flowers, and that he had never heard  of Moria, or mithril -- or the Ring.      A deep silence fell.  One by one the others  fell  asleep. Frodo was on guard. As if it were a breath that came in through unseen doors  out of deep places,  dread  came  over him. His hands were cold  and his  brow  damp. He listened. All his mind was given to listening and  nothing else for two slow hours; but he heard no sound, not even the imagined echo of a footfall.      His  watch  was nearly over, when, far  off  where he guessed  that the western  archway stood,  he  fancied  that he could  see two pale points  of light, almost  like  luminous eyes. He started. His head had nodded. `I must have  nearly fallen asleep on guard,' he thought. `I  was on  the edge  of a dream.' He stood up and rubbed his eyes, and remained standing, peering into the dark, until he was relieved by Legolas.      When he lay down  he quickly went to  sleep, but  it seemed to him that the  dream went on: he  heard whispers, and saw the two pale points of light approaching, slowly. He woke and  found that the others were speaking softly near him, and that a  dim light  was falling on his face. High  up above the eastern  archway through a shaft near  the roof came  a long pale gleam; and across the hall  through  the  northern  arch light also glimmered faint and
  600. distantly.      Frodo sat up. `Good morning!  ' said  Gandalf: `For morning it is again at last. I was right,  you see.  We  are high up on the east  side of Moria. Before today is over we ought to find the Great  Gates and see the waters of Mirrormere lying in the Dimrill Dale before us.'      'I shall be glad,' said Gimli. `I have looked on  Moria, and it is very great, but it has become dark and dreadful; and we have found no  sign of my kindred. I doubt now that Balin ever came here.'      After they had breakfasted Gandalf decided to go on again at  once. `We are tired, but we shall rest better  when we are outside,' he said. `I think that none of us will wish to spend another night in Moria.'      `No indeed! '  said Boromir. `Which way shall we take?  Yonder eastward arch? '      'Maybe,' said  Gandalf. `But  I du not know yet exactly  where  we are. Unless I am quite astray, I guess that  we are above and to the north of the Great Gates; and it may not be easy to find the right road down to them. The eastern arch will probably prove to be the way that we must take; but before we make up our minds we ought to look about us. Let us go towards that light in the north door. If we could find a window it would help,  but I fear that the light comes only down deep shafts.'      Following  his  lead the Company  passed under the  northern arch. They found themselves in a wide corridor. As they went along it the  glimmer grew stronger, and they saw that it came through a doorway on their right. It was high and flat-topped, and the stone door was still upon its hinges, standing half open.  Beyond it was a large square  chamber. It was  dimly lit, but to their eyes, after so long  a time in the dark, it seemed dazzlingly  bright, and they blinked as they entered.      Their  feet  disturbed  a deep dust upon the floor,  and stumbled among things  lying in the doorway whose shapes they could not at first  make out. The chamber was lit  by a  wide shaft high in the  further  eastern wall; it slanted  upwards and, far  above,  a small square patch of blue sky could be seen. The light of the  shaft fell directly  on a table in the middle of the room:  a single  oblong block, about two  feet high,  upon  which was laid a great slab of white stone.      `It  looks  like  a tomb,' muttered  Frodo,  and  bent forwards with  a curious  sense  of foreboding,  to  look more  closely  at it.  Gandalf came quickly to his side. On the slab runes were deeply graven:
  601.  
  602.       'These  are Daeron's Runes,  such as were used  of  old in Moria,' said Gandalf. 'Here is written in the tongues of Men and Dwarves:      balin son of fundin      lord of moria.'      'He  is  dead then,' said  Frodo. `I feared it was  so.' Gimli cast his hood over his face.
  603.  
  604.  
  605.  
  606. Chapter 5. The Bridge of Khazad-dym
  607.  
  608.  
  609.      The Company  of the Ring stood silent beside the  tomb of  Balin. Frodo thought  of  Bilbo  and his long friendship with the  dwarf,  and of Balin's visit to the  Shire long  ago. In  that dusty  chamber  in the mountains  it seemed a thousand years ago and on the other side of the world.      At length they stirred and looked up, and began  to search for anything that would give them tidings of Balin's fate, or show what had become of his folk. There was another smaller door on the other side of the chamber, under the shaft.  By both the doors they could now see that many bones were lying, and among  them  were  broken swords and axe-heads,  and cloven  shields and helms. Some of the swords were crooked: orc-scimitars with blackened blades.      There were many recesses cut in the rock of the walls, and in them were large iron-bound chests  of  wood. All had  been  broken and plundered;  but beside the shattered lid of one there lay the remains of a book. It had been slashed  and stabbed and partly burned, and it was so stained with black and other  dark  marks like old blood that little of  it could be  read. Gandalf lifted it carefully, but the leaves crackled and broke as he laid it  on the slab.  He  pored over it  for  some time  without  speaking. Frodo and Gimli standing  at his side could see, as he gingerly turned the leaves, that they were  written by many different hands, in runes, both of Moria  and of Dale, and here and there in Elvish script.      At last Gandalf looked  up. 'It seems to be a record of the fortunes of Balin's folk,' he said. `I guess  that it began with their coming to Dimrill Dale nigh on thirty years ago: the  pages seem to have numbers referring  to the years  after their arrival. The top page is marked  one -- three, so  at least two are missing from the beginning. Listen to this!      'We drove out orcs from the great gate and  guard --  I think; the next word is blurred and burned; probably room -- we slew many in the bright -- I think -- sun in the dale. Flui was killed by  an arrow.  He slew the  great. Then there is a blur followed by Flui under grass near Mirror mere. The next line or two I cannot  read. Then comes We have taken the twentyfirst hall of North end  to  dwell in. There is I cannot read what. A shaft is  mentioned. Then Balin has set up his seat in the Chamber of Mazarbul.'      'The Chamber of  Records,' said Gimli. `I  guess that is  where we  now
  610. stand.'      `Well, I can read no more for a long way,'  said  Gandalf, 'except  the word  gold, and Durin's Axe and something  helm. Then  Balin is now  lord of Moria. That seems to  end a  chapter. After some  stars another hand begins, and I can see we found  truesilver,  and  later the word wellforged and then something, I have it! mithril; and  the last two  lines Uin to  seek for the upper  armouries of  Third  Deep,  something go westwards, a blur, to Hollin gate.'      Gandalf paused and set a few leaves  aside. 'There are several pages of the same sort, rather hastily  written and much damaged, he said; `but I can make little of  them in  this light.  Now  there must  be a number of leaves missing, because they  begin  to  be numbered  five,  the fifth year  of the colony,  I suppose. Let  me see! No, they  are too cut and stained; I cannot read them. We might do  better  in the sunlight.  Wait! Here is something: a large bold hand using an Elvish script.'      'That would be Ori's hand,' said Gimli, looking  over the wizard's arm. `He could write well and speedily, and often used the Elvish characters.'      `I  fear  he had  ill tidings to record in a  fair hand,' said Gandalf. 'The first clear word is sorrow, but the rest of the line is lost, unless it ends in estre. Yes, it  must  be  yestre followed by day being  the tenth of novembre Balin lord of Moria fell in Dimrill Dale. He went alone  to look in Mirror mere.  an orc shot him from behind a stone. we slew the orc, hut many more  ... up  from  east up  the Silverlode. The remainder of the page is so blurred that I can hardly make anything out, but I think  I can read we have barred the gates, and then can  hold them long if, and then perhaps horrible and  suffer. Poor Balin! He seems to have kept  the  title that he  took for less than five years. I wonder  what happened afterwards;  but there  is  no time to  puzzle  out the last few pages. Here  is the last page of  all.' He paused and sighed.      `It  is grim reading,' he said. 'I fear their end was cruel. Listen! We cannot get  out.  We cannot get out. They have  taken the  Bridge and second hall. Frbr and Luni and  Nbli fell there. Then there are four lines  smeared so  that I can only read went 5 days  ago. The last lines run the pool is up to  the wall  at Westgate. The Watcher in  the Water took Uin. We cannot get out. The  end comes, and then  drums, drums in the deep. I wonder what  that means. The last thing written is in a  trailing  scrawl of elf-letters: they are coming.  There is  nothing more.'  Gandalf paused  and stood  in  silent
  611. thought.      A sudden dread and a horror  of  the chamber fell on  the  Company. `We cannot get out,' muttered Gimli. 'It was  well for us that the pool had sunk a little, and that the Watcher was sleeping down at the southern end.'      Gandalf raised  his  head and  looked  round. `They seem to have made a last  stand by both doors,'  he  said; 'but there were not many left by that time. So ended the  attempt to retake Moria! It was valiant but foolish. The time is not come yet. Now,  I fear, we must say  farewell  to  Balin  son of Fundin.  Here  he must  lie in the halls of his  fathers.  We will take this book,  the Book  of Mazarbul, and look at  it  more  closely  later. You had better keep it, Gimli, and take it  back  to Dbin, if  you get a chance.  It will interest him, though it will grieve  him deeply. Come, let  us  go! The morning is passing.'      'Which way shall we go? ' asked Boromir.      'Back to the hall,' answered  Gandalf. 'But  our visit to this room has not been  in vain. I now know where we are. This must be, as Gimli says, the Chamber of Mazarbul; and the hall must be the twenty-first of the North-end. Therefore we  should leave by  the  eastern arch of the hall, and bear right and south, and go downwards. The Twenty-first  Hall should be on the Seventh Level, that is six above the level of the Gates. Come now! Back to the hall! '      Gandalf had hardly spoken these words, when there came a great noise: a rolling  Boom that seemed  to come  from depths far below, and to tremble in the stone at their feet. They sprang towards  the door  in alarm. Doom, doom it rolled  again, as  if huge  hands were turning the very caverns  of Moria into a vast drum. Then there came an echoing blast: a great  horn  was blown in  the hall,  and answering horns  and harsh cries  were heard further off. There was a hurrying sound of many feet.      `They are coming! ' cried Legolas.      'We cannot get out,' said Gimli.      `Trapped! ' cried Gandalf. `Why  did I delay? Here we are, caught, just as they were before. But I was not here then. We will see what ----'      Doom, doom came the drum-beat and the walls shook.      'Slam the doors and wedge them! ' shouted Aragorn. 'And keep your packs on as long as you can: we may get a chance to cut our way out yet.'      `No! ' said Gandalf. 'We must not get shut in. Keep the east door ajar! We will go that way, if we get a chance.'
  612.      Another  harsh  horn-call and shrill cries  rang out.  Feet were coming down the corridor.  There was a  ring and clatter  as the Company drew their swords. Glamdring shone  with a  pale light, and Sting glinted at the edges. Boromir set his shoulder against the western door.      `Wait a  moment! Do not close it yet! ' said Gandalf. He sprang forward to Boromir's side and drew himself up to his full height.      'Who  comes hither  to disturb the rest of  Balin Lord of Moria?  '  he cried in a loud voice.      There was a  rush of  hoarse laughter, like the fall  of sliding stones into a pit; amid the clamour a deep voice was raised in command. Doom, boom, doom went the drums in the deep.      With a quick movement Gandalf stepped before  the narrow opening of the door and thrust forward his staff:  There was a dazzling flash that  lit the chamber  and the  passage  outside. For an instant  the wizard  looked  out. Arrows whined and whistled down the corridor as he sprang back.      'There are  Orcs, very many of them,' he said. `And some are  large and evil: black Uruks of Mordor. For the moment they are hanging back, but there is something else there. A great  cave-troll,  I  think,  or more than  one. There is no hope of escape that way.'      'And no hope at all, if they  come at the other  door  as  well,'  said Boromir.      'There is no sound outside here yet,' said Aragorn, who was standing by the eastern door listening. `The passage on  this side plunges straight down a stair: it plainly does not lead back towards the hall. But it  is  no good flying blindly  this way with the  pursuit  just behind. We cannot block the door. Its key is gone and the lock is broken, and it  opens inwards. We must do something to delay the enemy first. We will make them fear the Chamber of Mazarbul!' he said grimly feeling the edge of his sword, And®ril.      Heavy feet  were  heard in the corridor. Boromir  flung himself against the door  and heaved it to; then  he wedged it  with broken sword-blades and splinters of wood. The Company retreated  to the other  side of the chamber. But they had no chance to fly yet. There was a blow on the door that made it quiver;  and then it began  to grind slowly open, driving back the wedges. A huge  arm and shoulder, with  a  dark skin of  greenish scales,  was  thrust through  the  widening  gap.  Then a  great,  flat,  toeless foot was forced through below. There was a dead silence outside.
  613.      Boromir leaped forward and hewed at the arm with all his might; but his sword  rang, glanced  aside, and  fell  from his shaken  hand. The blade was notched.      Suddenly, and to his  own surprise, Frodo  felt a hot wrath blaze up in his heart. `The Shire! ' he cried, and springing beside Boromir, he stooped, and stabbed with Sting at the hideous foot. There was a bellow, and the foot jerked back, nearly  wrenching  Sting from Frodo's arm.  Black drops dripped from the blade and smoked on the floor. Boromir  hurled  himself against the door and slammed it again.      `One for the Shire! '  cried  Aragorn. `The hobbit's bite is  deep! You have a good blade, Frodo son of Drogo! '      There was a crash on the door, followed by crash after crash. Rams  and hammers were  beating against it.  It cracked  and staggered  back,  and the opening grew  suddenly  wide.  Arrows  came  whistling  in, but  struck  the northern wall, and fell harmlessly to the floor. There  was a horn-blast and a rush of feet, and orcs one after another leaped into the chamber.      How many there were the Company could  not count. The affray was sharp, but the orcs were dismayed by the fierceness of  the  defence. Legolas  shot two  through the throat.  Gimli hewed the legs from  under another that  had sprung up on Balin's  tomb. Boromir and Aragorn slew many. When thirteen had fallen the rest fled shrieking. leaving the  defenders unharmed, except  for Sam who had  a scratch along the scalp.  A  quick duck had saved him; and he had  felled  his  orc:  a sturdy  thrust with his  Barrow-blade. A  fire was smouldering  in his  brown  eyes  that would  have  made  Ted Sandyman  step backwards, if he had seen it.      `Now  is  the  time! ' cried  Gandalf.  `Let us  go,  before the  troll returns!'      But even as they retreated, and before Pippin and Merry had reached the stair  outside,  a  huge orc-chieftain, almost man-high, clad in black  mail from  head  to foot,  leaped  into  the chamber;  behind  him his  followers clustered in the doorway. His broad flat  face was swart, his eyes were like coals, and  his tongue  was red; he wielded a great  spear. With a thrust of his  huge hide shield he  turned  Boromir's  sword  and  bore him backwards, throwing him to  the ground. Diving under Aragorn's blow with the speed of a striking  snake  he  charged  into  the Company  and  thrust with  his spear straight  at  Frodo.  The blow caught  him  on the right side, and Frodo was
  614. hurled  against  the  wall and  pinned.  Sam,  with  a  cry, hacked  at  the spear-shaft, and it broke. But  even as the orc flung down the truncheon and swept  out his scimitar, And®ril came down upon his helm. There  was a flash like flame and the helm burst  asunder.  The orc fell with cloven  head. His followers fled howling, as Boromir and Aragorn sprang at them.      Doom, doom went  the drums  in the  deep.  The  great voice  rolled out again.      'Now! ' shouted Gandalf. 'Now is the last chance. Run for it! '      Aragorn picked up Frodo  where  he lay by the  wall and  made  for  the stair, pushing Merry and Pippin in  front  of him. The others followed;  but Gimli had  to be dragged away  by Legolas: in spite of the peril he lingered by  Balin's tomb  with his head bowed.  Boromir hauled the eastern  door to, grinding upon its hinges: it  had great iron rings on either side, but could not be fastened.      'I am all right,' gasped Frodo. `I can walk. Put me down! '      Aragorn nearly dropped him in his  amazement. 'I thought you were dead! ' he cried.      'Not yet! '  said Gandalf. 'But there is time  for wonder.  Off you go, all of you, down the stairs! Wait a few minutes for me at the bottom, but if I  do  not come soon, go on!  Go  quickly and choose paths leading right and downwards.'      'We cannot leave you to hold the door alone! ' said Aragorn.      `Do as I say! ' said Gandalf fiercely.  `Swords are no  more use  here. Go!'      The passage was lit by no shaft and was utterly dark. They groped their way down  a long  flight  of steps, and then looked back; but they could see nothing, except high above them the faint glimmer  of the wizard's staff. He seemed  to  be still  standing on guard by  the closed door.  Frodo breathed heavily  and  leaned  against Sam, who  put his arms  about him.  They stood peering up  the  stairs  into the darkness. Frodo thought he could hear  the voice of  Gandalf above, muttering words that ran down the sloping roof with a sighing  echo. He could not catch  what was said.  The  walls seemed to be trembling.  Every  now and again the drum-beats  throbbed and rolled:  doom, doom.      Suddenly at the top of the stair there was a stab of white  light. Then there  was a dull rumble and a heavy thud. The drum-beats broke  out wildly:
  615. doom-boom, doom-boom, and then  stopped. Gandalf came flying down the  steps and fell to the ground in the midst of the Company.      `Well, well! That's over!  ' said the wizard struggling to his feet. `I have done  all that I  could. But I have met my  match, and have nearly been destroyed. But don't stand here! Go  on! You  will have to  do without light for a  while: I am rather  shaken. Go on! Go on! Where are  you, Gimli? Come ahead with me! Keep close behind, all of you!'      They stumbled after him  wondering what had happened.  Doom,  doom went the drum-beats  again: they now sounded muffled and  far away, but they were following. There was no  other sound  of pursuit, neither tramp of feet, nor any  voice. Gandalf took  no turns, right or left, for the passage seemed to be  going in the direction that he desired. Every now and again it descended a  flight of steps, fifty or more, to a  lower level. At the moment that was their chief danger; for in the dark they could not see a descent, until they came on it, and put their feet out into  emptiness.  Gandalf felt the ground with his staff like a blind man.      At the end of an hour they had gone a mile, or maybe a little more, and had descended many flights of stairs. There was still  no sound  of pursuit. Almost  they  began to hope that they  would  escape. At the  bottom  of the seventh flight Gandalf halted.      `It is getting hot! ' he  gasped. `We ought to  be down at least to the level of the Gates now.  Soon I think we should look for a left-hand turn to take us  east. I  hope  it is not far. I am very weary. I  must  rest here a moment, even if all the orcs ever spawned are after us.'      Gimli took  his arm and  helped  him down to a seat on the step.  `What happened away up there at the  door? ' he asked. `Did you meet the beater of the drums? '      'I  do not know,' answered Gandalf. `But I found myself suddenly  faced by something  that I have not met before. I could think of nothing to do but to try and  put a  shutting-spell on the door. I know many; but to do things of that kind rightly requires time,  and even then the door can be broken by strength.      `As  I stood there  I could hear orc-voices on  the other  side: at any moment  I thought they would burst it open. I could not hear  what was said; they seemed to be talking in their  own hideous language.  All  I caught was
  616. ghvsh;  that is  "fire". Then something came into the chamber  --  I felt it through  the door, and the orcs themselves were  afraid and fell  silent. It laid hold of the iron ring, and then it perceived me and my spell.      'What it was  I cannot guess, but I have  never felt such  a challenge. The counter-spell was  terrible. It nearly broke me. For an instant the door left  my control and began to open!  I had  to speak a word of Command. That proved too great a strain.  The door burst in pieces.  Something  dark  as a cloud was blocking out all the light inside, and I was thrown backwards down the stairs. All the wall gave way, and  the roof of  the  chamber as well, I think.      `I  am afraid Balin is buried deep, and maybe something  else is buried there too. I  cannot say. But at least the passage behind  us was completely blocked.  Ah! I have never  felt  so spent, but it  is passing. And now what about  you, Frodo? There was not time to say  so, but I have never been more delighted in my life than when you spoke.  I feared that it was  a brave but dead hobbit that Aragorn was carrying.'      `What about me?  ' said  Frodo. 'I am  alive,  and whole I think. I  am bruised and in pain, but it is not too bad.'      `Well,' said Aragorn, `I can only say that hobbits are made of  a stuff so tough  that I  have  never met the like of it. Had  I known, I would have spoken softer in the  Inn at  Bree! That spear-thrust would have  skewered a wild boar! '      'Well, it did not skewer me, I am glad  to say,'  said Frodo; `though I feel  as  if I had been caught between  a hammer  and an anvil.' He  said no more. He found breathing painful.      'You take  after Bilbo,' said  Gandalf.  `There is  more about you than meets the  eye, as I said  of  him long ago.'  Frodo wondered  if the remark meant more than it said.      They  now went  on again. Before long Gimli spoke.  He had keen eyes in the dark. `I think,' he said, `that there  is a light  ahead. But it  is not daylight. It is red. What can it be? '      `Ghvsh!' muttered  Gandalf. `I wonder if that is what they meant:  that the lower levels are on fire? Still, we can only go on.'      Soon the light became  unmistakable,  and could be  seen by all. It was flickering and glowing  on the walls away down the passage before them. They could now see their way: in front the road sloped down swiftly, and some way ahead there stood  a low archway; through it the glowing light came. The air
  617. became very hot.      When they came to the  arch  Gandalf  went through,  signing to them to wait.  As  he  stood just beyond the opening they saw his face  lit by a red glow. Quickly he stepped back.      `There is some new devilry here,' he said, 'devised for our welcome  no doubt.  But I know now  where we are:  we  have reached the First Deep,  the level immediately below the Gates. This is the Second Hall of Old Moria; and the Gates are near: away beyond  the eastern end, on the left, not more than a quarter of a mile. Across the Bridge, up a broad stair,  along a wide road through the First Hall, and out! But come and look! '      They peered out. Before them was another cavernous hall. It was loftier and far  longer than the one in which they had  slept. They  were  near  its eastern  end; westward it ran away into darkness. Down the  centre stalked a double line of towering pillars. They were carved like boles of mighty trees whose boughs upheld  the roof with a branching tracery of stone. Their stems were smooth and black, but a  red glow was  darkly mirrored  in their sides. Right  across the  floor, close  to the feet  of two  huge  pillars  a great fissure  had opened. Out of it a fierce  red light came,  and  now and again flames licked  at the brink and curled about the bases of the columns. Wisps of dark smoke wavered in the hot air.      'If we had come by  the  main road down from the upper halls, we should have been trapped here,' said Gandalf.  `Let  us hope that the fire now lies between us and pursuit. Come! There is no time to lose.'      Even as he  spoke they heard again  the pursuing drum-beat: Doom, doom, doom.  Away  beyond the  shadows  at the western end of the  hall there came cries  and  horn-calls. Doom,  doom:  the pillars seemed  to tremble and the flames to quiver.      `Now for the  last race! ' said Gandalf. 'If the sun is shining outside we may still escape. After me! '      He  turned left  and  sped  across the smooth  floor of the  hall.  The distance was greater than it had looked. As they ran they heard the beat and echo  of  many  hurrying feet behind.  A shrill  yell went up: they had been seen. There was a  ring and clash of steel. An arrow  whistled over  Frodo's head.      Boromir laughed. `They did not expect this,' he said. `The fire has cut them off. We are on the wrong side! '      `Look ahead! ' called Gandalf. `The Bridge is near. It is dangerous and
  618. narrow.'      Suddenly Frodo saw before him a black chasm. At the end of the hall the floor vanished and fell to an unknown  depth. The outer door  could only  be reached by a slender bridge of stone, without kerb or rail, that spanned the chasm with one curving  spring  of fifty feet. It was  an ancient defence of the Dwarves against  any enemy that  might  capture  the  First Hall and the outer passages. They  could only pass across it in single file. At the brink Gandalf halted and the others came up in a pack behind.      'Lead  the way,  Gimli! ' he said. 'Pippin and  Merry next. Straight on and up the stair beyond the door! '      Arrows  fell  among them. One  struck Frodo  and  sprang  back. Another pierced Gandalf's hat  and stuck there  like a black feather.  Frodo  looked behind. Beyond  the fire  he saw swarming black figures: there seemed to  be hundreds of orcs. They brandished spears and scimitars which  shone  red  as blood in the firelight. Doom, doom rolled the drum-beats, growing louder and louder, doom, doom.      Legolas  turned and set an arrow to the  string, though it  was  a long shot for his small bow. He drew, but his hand fell, and the arrow slipped to the ground. He  gave a cry of  dismay and  fear.  Two great trolls appeared; they bore  great slabs  of stone, and flung  them down to serve as  gangways over  the fire.  But  it was not the  trolls that  had filled the  Elf  with terror. The  ranks of the orcs had opened, and they crowded away, as if they themselves  were afraid.  Something was coming  up behind them.  What it was could not be seen:  it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which was a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in it and to go before it.      It came to the edge of the fire and the  light faded as if a cloud  had bent  over it. Then with  a rush it leaped  across the fissure.  The  flames roared up to greet  it, and  wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in the air. Its streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand was  a  blade like a stabbing tongue of fire;  in its left it held a whip of many thongs.      'Ai! ai! ' wailed Legolas. 'A Balrog! A Balrog is come! '      Gimli stared with wide eyes. `Durin's Bane! ' he cried, and letting his axe fall he covered his face.      'A  Balrog,' muttered  Gandalf.  `Now I  understand.'  He  faltered and leaned heavily on his staff. `What an evil fortune! And I am already weary.'
  619.      The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards them. The orcs yelled and  poured over the stone gangways.  Then Boromir raised his horn and blew. Loud  the challenge rang and bellowed, like the shout of many  throats under the  cavernous  roof. For a  moment the orcs  quailed  and the  fiery shadow halted.  Then the  echoes died as suddenly as  a  flame blown out by a  dark wind, and the enemy advanced again.      'Over the bridge!' cried Gandalf, recalling his strength. `Fly! This is a foe beyond any  of you. I  must hold the narrow  way.  Fly! '  Aragorn and Boromir did not heed the command, but still held their ground, side by side, behind Gandalf at the  far end of the bridge. The others halted  just within the doorway  at the hall's end, and turned, unable to leave their  leader to face the enemy alone.      The Balrog reached the bridge. Gandalf stood in the middle of the span, leaning on  the staff  in his left hand,  but  in his other  hand  Glamdring gleamed,  cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But Gandalf stood firm.      `You cannot  pass,' he  said. The  orcs stood still, and a dead silence fell. `I  am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udyn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.'      The  Balrog made  no  answer.  The fire in  it seemed to die,  but  the darkness grew. It  stepped forward slowly on to  the bridge, and suddenly it drew  itself  up to a  great height, and its wings were spread from wall  to wall;  but still Gandalf could  be seen,  glimmering in the gloom; he seemed small, and altogether alone: grey  and bent, like a  wizened tree before the onset of a storm.      From out of the shadow a red sword leaped flaming.      Glamdring glittered white in answer.      There was a ringing clash and  a stab  of  white fire. The Balrog  fell back  and its  sword flew  up in molten  fragments. The wizard swayed on the bridge, stepped back a pace, and then again stood still.      'You cannot pass! ' he said.      With a bound the  Balrog leaped full  upon the bridge. Its whip whirled and hissed.      'He cannot stand alone! ' cried Aragorn suddenly and ran back along the bridge. 'Elendil!' he shouted. 'I am with you, Gandalf! '
  620.      `Gondor! ' cried Boromir and leaped after him.      At that moment Gandalf  lifted his staff, and crying aloud he smote the bridge  before  him.  The  staff broke asunder and  fell  from  his  hand. A blinding sheet of white  flame sprang  up. The  bridge cracked. Right at the Balrog's  feet it broke, and the stone  upon which it stood crashed into the gulf,  while the  rest  remained, poised,  quivering  like a tongue  of rock thrust out into emptiness.      With  a terrible  cry the Balrog fell  forward, and  its shadow plunged down and vanished.  But  even as it  fell it swung  its whip, and the thongs lashed and curled  about the wizard's  knees, dragging him to the brink.  He staggered  and fell, grasped vainly at the stone, and slid  into the  abyss. 'Fly, you fools! ' he cried, and was gone.      The fires went  out, and blank darkness  fell. The Company stood rooted with  horror staring  into the pit. Even  as Aragorn and Boromir came flying back, the rest  of the bridge cracked and  fell.  With a  cry Aragorn roused them.      'Come!  I  will lead you now!  '  he  called.  'We  must  obey his last command. Follow me! '      They  stumbled  wildly  up the great stairs beyond  the  door.  Aragorn leading, Boromir at the  rear. At the top was a  wide echoing passage. Along this they  fled. Frodo heard Sam at his side weeping, and then he found that he himself was  weeping as  he ran. Doom, doom,  doom the  drum-beats rolled behind, mournful now and slow; doom!      They ran on. The light grew before them; great shafts pierced the roof. They ran  swifter. They passed into  a  hall, bright with daylight from  its high windows in the east. They fled across it. Through its huge broken doors they passed,  and  suddenly before  them the Great Gates opened,  an arch of blazing light.      There  was a guard of  orcs crouching in the  shadows behind the  great door posts towering on either  side,  but the gates were shattered and  cast down.  Aragorn smote to the ground the  captain that stood  in his path, and the rest fled in terror of his wrath. The Company swept  past them  and took no  heed  of them.  Out of the Gates they ran and sprang down  the  huge and age-worn steps, the threshold of Moria.      Thus, at last, they came beyond hope under the sky and felt the wind on their faces.      They did not  halt  until  they were  out  of bowshot from  the  walls.
  621. Dimrill  Dale lay about them. The shadow of the Misty Mountains lay upon it, but  eastwards there was a golden  light  on the land.  It was but one  hour after noon. The sun was shining; the clouds were white and high.      They looked  back.  Dark yawned  the  archway  of  the Gates  under the mountain-shadow. Faint and far beneath the earth rolled the slow drum-beats: doom. A thin black smoke trailed out. Nothing else was to be seen; the  dale all  around was empty.  Doom. Grief  at last  wholly overcame them, and they wept long: some standing and silent, some  cast upon the ground. Doom, doom. The drum-beats faded.
  622.  
  623.  
  624.  
  625. Chapter 6. Lothlurien
  626.  
  627.  
  628.      'Alas! I  Fear  we cannot  stay here longer,'  said  Aragorn. He looked towards the mountains and held up his sword. `Farewell, Gandalf! ' he cried. 'Did I  not say to you: if  you pass the doors of Moria, beware? Alas that I spoke true! What hope have we without you? '      He turned to the Company. `We must do without hope,' he said. `At least we may yet be avenged. Let us gird ourselves and weep no more! Come! We have a long road, and much to do.'      They rose and looked about  them. Northward the dale ran up into a glen of shadows between  two great arms of the mountains, above which three white peaks were shining:  Celebdil, Fanuidhol, Caradhras. the Mountains of Moria. At the head of  the glen a torrent flowed  like a white lace over an endless ladder  of short  falls,  and  a  mist of foam  hung in the  air  about  the mountains' feet.      `Yonder is the Dimrill  Stair,'  said  Aragorn,  pointing to the falls. 'Down  the  deep-cloven way that climbs beside  the torrent  we should  have come, if fortune had been kinder.'      `Or Caradhras less cruel,' said Gimli. `There he stands smiling in  the sun! ' He shook his fist at the furthest of the snow-capped peaks and turned away.      To the east the outflung arm of  the mountains marched to a sudden end, and far lands  could be  descried beyond  them, wide and vague. To the south the Misty Mountains receded endlessly as far as sight could reach. Less than a  mile away, and a  little below them, for they still stood high up on  the west side of the dale, there lay a mere. It was long and oval, shaped like a great spear-head thrust  deep  into the northern glen; but its  southern end was  beyond the  shadows under the sunlit sky. Yet  its  waters were dark: a deep blue  like  clear evening sky seen from  a lamp-lit room. Its face  was still and unruffled. About it lay a smooth sward, shelving down on all sides to its bare unbroken rim.      `There lies the Mirrormere, deep Kheled-zvram! ' said  Gimli sadly.  `I remember that he said: "May you have joy of  the sight! But we cannot linger there."  Now long shall I journey ere  I have  joy again. It is  I that must
  629. hasten away, and he that must remain.'      The  Company now went down  the road from the Gates.  It was  rough and broken,  fading to a winding track between heather and whin that thrust amid the cracking stones. But still it could  be seen  that once long ago a great paved way  had  wound upwards from  the lowlands of  the  Dwarf-kingdom.  In places there were ruined works of stone beside the path, and mounds of green topped with slender birches, or fir-trees sighing in  the wind. An  eastward bend led them  hard by the sward of  Mirrormere,  and there not far from the roadside stood a single column broken at the top.      'That  is Durin's Stone! ' cried Gimli. `I cannot  pass without turning aside for a moment to look at the wonder of the dale! '      `Be swift  then! ' said  Aragorn, looking back towards the Gates.  `The Sun sinks early. The Orcs will  not, maybe, come out till after dusk, but we must be far away before nightfall. The Moon is almost spent, and it will  be dark tonight.'      'Come with me,  Frodo! ' cried the dwarf,  springing from the  road. `I would not have  you  go without  seeing Kheled-zvram.'  He ran down the long green slope. Frodo followed slowly,  drawn by the still blue water in  spite of hurt and weariness; Sam came up behind.      Beside  the  standing stone Gimli halted and looked up. It  was cracked and weather-worn, and the faint runes upon its side could not be read. `This pillar marks the spot where Durin first looked  in the Mirrormere,' said the dwarf. 'Let us look ourselves once, ere we go!'      They stooped over the dark water. At first they could see nothing. Then slowly they saw the forms of the encircling mountains mirrored in a profound blue, and the peaks were like plumes of white flame above them; beyond there was a space of sky. There like jewels sunk in the deep shone glinting stars, though sunlight was in  the sky above. Of their own stooping forms no shadow could be seen.      'O Kheled-zvram fair and wonderful! ' said Gimli. `There lies the Crown of Durin till he wakes.  Farewell! ' He bowed, and turned away, and hastened back up the green-sward to the road again.      `What  did  you see?  '  said Pippin to Sam, but  Sam was  too deep  in thought to answer.      The road now  turned south and went quickly downwards, running out from between the arms of  the dale. Some  way  below the mere they came on a deep
  630. well of water, clear as crystal,  from which a freshet fell over a stone lip and ran glistening and gurgling down a steep rocky channel.      'Here is  the spring from  which the Silverlode rises.' said Gimli. `Do not drink of it! It is icy cold.'      'Soon it becomes a swift river, and  it  gathers water from  many other mountain-streams,' said Aragorn.  `Our road leads beside it for  many miles. For I  shall take you  by the road that  Gandalf chose, and first I hope  to come to  the woods  where  the  Silverlode  flows into the  Great  River-out yonder.'  They looked as  he pointed,  and before  them  they  could see the stream  leaping  down to the trough of the  valley, and then  running on and away into the lower lands, until it was lost in a golden haze.      `There  lie  the  woods of Lothlurien! '  said  Legolas. `That  is  the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of that land. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the  spring comes and  the  new green opens  do they fall, and then the boughs are  laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the  wood is golden, and golden is the  roof, and its  pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still our songs in Mirkwood say. My heart would be glad if I were beneath the eaves of that wood, and it were springtime! '      `My heart will be glad, even in the winter,' said Aragorn. 'But it lies many miles away. Let us hasten! '      For some  time Frodo and Sam managed to keep up with  the  others;  but Aragorn was  leading them at  a great  pace,  and  after a while they lagged behind.  They  had eaten nothing  since  the  early morning.  Sam's cut  was burning like fire, and his head felt light.  In spite of the shining sun the wind seemed chill after the warm darkness of Moria.  He shivered. Frodo felt every step more painful and he gasped for breath.      At last Legolas turned, and seeing  them  now far behind,  he spoke  to Aragorn. The others halted, and Aragorn ran back, calling to Boromir to come with him.      'I am sorry,  Frodo! ' he cried, full of concern. `So much has happened this day and we have such need of haste, that I have forgotten that you were hurt; and Sam too. You should have spoken. We have done nothing to ease you, as we ought, though all the orcs of Moria were after  us. Come now! A little further on there is a place  where we can rest for a little. There I will do what I can for you. Come, Boromir! We will carry them.'
  631.      Soon afterwards they came  upon another stream that ran down  from  the west, and joined  its  bubbling water with the hurrying Silverlode. Together they plunged over a fall of green-hued  stone, and foamed  down into a dell. About  it stood fir-trees, short and bent,  and  its  sides were  steep  and clothed with harts-tongue  and shrubs of whortle-berry. At the  bottom there was  a level  space  through  which the stream flowed  noisily  over shining pebbles. Here they rested.  It was now  nearly three hours  after noon,  and they  had  come  only  a few  miles  from  the  Gates. Already  the sun  was westering.      While Gimli and the two  younger hobbits kindled a  fire of brush-  and fir-wood, and drew  water, Aragorn tended Sam and Frodo. Sam's wound was not deep, but  it looked ugly, and  Aragorn's face  was grave as he examined it. After a moment he looked up with relief.      'Good luck, Sam! '  he said. 'Many  have received worse  than  this  in payment for the slaying of their first orc. The  cut is not poisoned, as the wounds of orc-blades too often are. It should  heal well when  I have tended it. Bathe it when Gimli has heated water.'      He opened his pouch  and drew out  some withered leaves.  `They are dry and some of their virtue has one, he said, but here I have still some of the leaves of athelas that I gathered near Weathertop. Crush  one in the  water, and wash the wound clean, and I will bind it. Now it is your turn. Frodo! '      'I am all right,'  said Frodo, reluctant  to have his garments touched. `AII I needed was some food and a little rest.'      `No! ' said Aragorn. `We must have a  look and see what the  hammer and the  anvil have  done  to you. I still marvel  that  you are  alive at all.' Gently he stripped off Frodo's old jacket and worn tunic, and gave a gasp of wonder. Then he laughed. The silver corslet shimmered  before his eyes  like the light upon a rippling sea. Carefully he took it  off and held it up, and the gems on it glittered like stars.  and the sound of the shaken rings  was like the tinkle of rain in a pool.      `Look, my friends!' he called.  `Here's a pretty hobbit-skin to wrap an elven-princeling in! If it were known that  hobbits had  such hides, all the hunters of Middle-earth would be riding to the Shire.'      `And all the arrows of all the hunters  in the world would be in vain,' said  Gimli, gazing at the mail in wonder. `It is a mithril-coat. Mithril! I have never seen or  heard tell of one so fair. Is this the coat that Gandalf
  632. spoke of? Then he undervalued it. But it was well given! '      `I have  often wondered what you and Bilbo  were doing, so close in his little room,'  said Merry. 'Bless the old hobbit! I love him more than ever. I hope we get a chance of telling him about it! '      There was a dark and blackened bruise on Frodo's right side and breast. Under the mail there was a shirt of soft leather, but at one point the rings had been driven through it into the flesh. Frodo's left side also was scored and bruised where he had been hurled against the  wall. While the others set the  food ready.  Aragorn  bathed the hurts  with water in which athelas was steeped. The pungent fragrance filled  the dell, and all  those who  stooped over the steaming water felt refreshed and strengthened. Soon Frodo felt the pain leave him,  and his breath grew  easy: though he was stiff and sore  to the touch for many days. Aragorn bound some soft pads of cloth at his side.      `The mail is marvellously light,' he said. `Put it on again, if you can bear it. My heart is glad  to know that you have  such a coat. Do not lay it aside, even  in sleep,  unless fortune brings you where you  are safe for  a while; and that will seldom chance while your quest lasts.'      When they  had eaten, the Company got ready to go on. They  put out the fire and hid all  traces of it. Then climbing out of the dell they  took  to the  road  again.  They  had  not  gone far before the sun  sank  behind the westward  heights  and  great  shadows crept down  the mountain-sides.  Dusk veiled their  feet,  and  mist  rose in the hollows. Away  in  the east  the evening light lay pale upon the dim lands of distant plain and wood. Sam and Frodo  now  feeling eased  and greatly refreshed were  able  to go at a fair pace,  and  with only one brief halt Aragorn  led the Company on  for nearly three more hours.      It was  dark. Deep night had fallen. There  were  many clear stars, hut the fast-waning moon  would not be seen till late. Gimli  and  Frodo were at the rear, walking softly and not speaking, listening for any sound  upon the road behind. At length Gimli broke the silence.      'Not a sound but the wind,' he  said. `There are no goblins near, or my ears are made of wood. It is to be  hoped that the Orcs will be content with driving us from Moria. And maybe that was  all their  purpose, and  they had nothing else to do with us-with the Ring. Though Orcs will often pursue foes for many leagues into the plain, if they have a fallen captain to avenge.'      Frodo  did not answer. He looked at Sting, and the blade  was dull. Yet he had heard something, or thought he had. As soon as the shadows had fallen
  633. about them and the  road behind was dim, he had heard again the quick patter of feet. Even now he heard it. He turned swiftly. There were two tiny gleams of light behind, or for a moment he thought he  saw  them, but at once  they slipped aside and vanished.      `What is it? ' said the dwarf.      `I don't know.' answered Frodo. 'I thought I heard feet,  and I thought I saw a light-like  eyes. I  have thought so  often, since we first  entered Moria.'      Gimli  halted and  stooped  to  the  ground. 'I  hear  nothing but  the night-speech of plant  and stone,'  he said. 'Come! Let us hurry! The others are out of sight.'      The  night-wind  blew  chill up the valley to  meet them. Before them a wide  grey shadow loomed, and  they heard an endless  rustle of leaves  like poplars in the breeze.      `Lothlurien! ' cried Legolas. 'Lothlurien! We have come to the eaves of the Golden Wood. Alas that it is winter! '      Under  the night the trees stood tall before them, arched over the road and stream that  ran suddenly  beneath their  spreading  boughs. In  the dim light of  the stars their stems were grey, and their quivering leaves a hint of fallow gold.      'Lothlurien! '  said  Aragorn. 'Glad I am to hear again the wind in the trees! We are still little more than five leagues from the Gates, but we can go no further. Here  let  us hope that the virtue of the Elves will  keep us tonight from the peril that comes behind.'      `If Elves indeed still dwell here in the darkening world,' said Gimli.      'It is long since any  of my own folk journeyed hither back to the land whence we wandered in ages long ago,' said Legolas, 'but we hear that Lurien is not yet deserted, for there is a  secret power here  that holds evil from the land.  Nevertheless its folk are seldom  seen, and maybe they  dwell now deep in the woods and far from the northern border.'      'Indeed deep  in the  wood they dwell,' said Aragorn, and sighed as  if some memory stirred in him. `We must fend for ourselves tonight.  We will go forward a short way, until the trees are all about us, and then we will turn aside from the path and seek a place to rest in.'      He stepped forward; but Boromir  stood irresolute and did  not  follow. 'Is there no other way? ' he said.      `What other fairer way would you desire? ' said Aragorn.
  634.      `A plain road, though it  led through a hedge of swords,' said Boromir. `By  strange  paths has this Company been  led, and so far  to evil fortune. Against my will we passed under the shades of Moria, to our loss. And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. But of that perilous land we have heard in  Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed.'      `Say not unscathed, but if you say unchanged, then maybe you will speak the truth said Aragorn. But lore wanes in Gondor, Boromir, if in the city of those who once were wise they now speak evil of Lothlurien. Believe what you will,  there  is no other  way  for  us --  unless  you  would  go  back  to Moria-gate, or  scale the pathless mountains, or swim the  Great  River  all alone.'      `Then lead on! ' said Boromir. `But it is perilous.'      `Perilous indeed,' said Aragorn, 'fair and perilous; but only evil need fear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me! '      They  had gone  little more than a mile into the  forest when they came upon  another  stream flowing  down swiftly from  the tree-clad  slopes that climbed back westward towards the mountains.  They heard it splashing over a fall away among the shadows on  their  right. Its dark  hurrying waters  ran across the path before  them, and joined  the Silverlode in a  swirl  of dim pools among the roots of trees.      `Here is Nimrodel! ' said  Legolas.  'Of this stream  the Silvan  Elves made  many songs long ago, and still we sing them  in the North, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the  golden flowers  that floated in its foam. All is  dark now  and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my feet, for it  is said that  the water is  healing to  the  weary.'  He  went forward and climbed down the deep-cloven bank and stepped into the stream.      `Follow me!' he  cried. 'The water is not deep. Let us wade  across! On the  further bank we can rest. and  the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief.'      One by one they  climbed down and followed Legolas. For  a moment Frodo stood near the brink and let the water flow over his tired feet. It was cold but its touch was clean, and  as he went on and it  mounted to his knees, he felt that the stain of travel and all weariness was washed from his limbs.      When all  the Company had crossed, they sat and rested and ate a little food; and Legolas  told them  tales of Lothlurien that the Elves of Mirkwood still  kept  in their  hearts, of sunlight and starlight upon the meadows by
  635. the Great River before the world was grey.      At  length  a  silence fell, and they  heard the music of the waterfall running sweetly  in the shadows. Almost Frodo fancied that he  could  hear a voice singing, mingled with the sound of the water.      `Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel? ' asked Legolas. 'I will sing you a song  of the maiden Nimrodel, who bore the same  name  as the stream  beside which she lived lung ago. It is a fair song in our woodland tongue; but this is how it runs in the  Westron Speech, as some in Rivendell now sing it.' In a soft voice hardly to be heard amid the rustle of the leaves above them  he began:      An Elven-maid there was of old,      A shining star by day:      Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,      Her shoes of silver-grey.
  636.  
  637.      A star was bound upon her brows,      A light was on her hair      As sun upon the golden boughs      In Lurien the fair.
  638.  
  639.      Her hair was long, her limbs were white,      And fair she was and free;      And in the wind she went as light      As leaf of linden-tree.
  640.  
  641.      Beside the falls of Nimrodel,      By water clear and cool,      Her voice as falling silver fell      Into the shining pool.
  642.  
  643.      Where now she wanders none can tell,      In sunlight or in shade;      For lost of yore was Nimrodel      And in the mountains strayed.
  644.  
  645.      The elven-ship in haven grey      Beneath the mountain-lee
  646.      Awaited her for many a day      Beside the roaring sea.
  647.  
  648.      A wind by night in Northern lands      Arose, and loud it cried,      And drove the ship from elven-strands      Across the streaming tide.
  649.  
  650.      When dawn came dim the land was lost,      The mountains sinking grey      Beyond the heaving waves that tossed      Their plumes of blinding spray.
  651.  
  652.      Amroth beheld the fading shore      Now low beyond the swell,      And cursed the faithless ship that bore      Him far from Nimrodel.
  653.  
  654.      Of old he was an Elven-king,      A lord of tree and glen,      When golden were the boughs in spring      In fair Lothlurien.
  655.  
  656.      From helm to sea they saw him leap,      As arrow from the string,      And dive into the water deep,      As mew upon the wing.
  657.  
  658.      The wind was in his flowing hair,      The foam about him shone;      Afar they saw him strong and fair      Go riding like a swan.
  659.  
  660.      But from the West has come no word,      And on the Hither Shore      No tidings Elven-folk have heard      Of Amroth evermore.
  661.      The voice of Legolas faltered, and the  song ceased. 'I cannot sing any more,' he said. 'That is  but a part, for I have forgotten much.  It is long and  sad,  for  it  tells  how sorrow came  upon Lothlurien,  Lurien  of the Blossom, when the Dwarves awakened evil in the mountains.'      `But the Dwarves did not make the evil,' said Gimli.      `I said not  so; yet evil came,' answered Legolas sadly.  `Then many of the Elves  of  Nimrodel's kindred left their dwellings and departed  and she was  lost far in  the South, in  the passes of the White Mountains;  and she came  not to  the ship where  Amroth her  lover waited for  her. But  in the spring when the wind is in the new leaves the echo of her voice may still be heard by the falls that bear her name. And when the wind is in the South the voice  of Amroth comes up from the sea; for  Nimrodel flows into Silverlode, that Elves call Celebrant, and Celebrant into Anduin  the Great. and  Anduin flows into  the  Bay of Belfalas  whence the  Elves of Lurien set  sail. But neither Nimrodel nor Amroth ever came back.      'It is told  that she had a house built in the branches  of a tree that grew  near the falls; for that  was the custom  of the  Elves of  Lurien, to dwell in the trees, and maybe it is so still. Therefore they were called the Galadhrim, the Tree-people. Deep  in  their forest the trees are very great. The people of the woods did not delve in the  ground like Dwarves, nor build strong places of stone before the Shadow came.'      `And even in  these latter days dwelling in the trees might  be thought safer than sitting on the  ground,' said  Gimli. He looked across the stream to the road that led back to Dimrill Dale, and then up into the roof of dark boughs above.      `Your  words bring good counsel, Gimli,' said Aragorn. `We cannot build a house, but  tonight we  will do as the Galadhrim  and seek  refuge  in the tree-tops, if we can. We have sat here beside  the road  already longer than was wise.'      The Company now turned aside from the path, and went into the shadow of the deeper woods,  westward along  the mountain-stream away from Silverlode. Not  far from the falls of Nimrodel they  found a cluster of trees,  some of which overhung the stream. Their great grey trunks were of mighty girth, but their height could not be guessed.      `I will climb up,' said  Legolas. `I am at home among trees, by root or bough, though  these  trees are of a kind strange to  me, save as  a name in
  662. song.  Mellyrn  they are called, and are those that bear the yellow blossom, but I have never climbed in one. I will see now what is  their shape and way of growth.'      `Whatever  it may be,'  said Pippin,  `they  will be  marvellous  trees indeed if they can offer any rest at night, except to birds. I cannot  sleep on a perch! '      'Then dig a hole in the  ground,' said Legolas, `if that  is more after the fashion of your kind. But  you  must dig swift and deep, if you  wish to hide from Orcs.' He sprang  lightly up from the ground  and  caught a branch that grew from the trunk high above his head. But even as he swung there for a moment, a voice spoke suddenly from the tree-shadows above him.      `Daro!'  it said in commanding tone, and Legolas dropped back to  earth in surprise and fear. He shrank against the bole of the tree.      'Stand still! ' he whispered to the others. `Do not move or speak! '      There  was a sound  of soft laughter over their heads, and then another clear voice spoke in an  elven-tongue. Frodo could understand little of what was  said, for the speech that the  Silvan folk east of the  mountains  used among themselves was unlike that of the West. Legolas looked up and answered in the same language.*      `Who are they, and what do they say? ' asked Merry.      `They're Elves,' said Sam. `Can't you hear their voices? '      `Yes, they are Elves,'  said Legolas; `and they say that you breathe so loud that they could  shoot you in the dark.' Sam  hastily put his hand over his mouth.  'But they say also that  you need have  no fear. They have  been aware of us for a long while. They heard  my  voice across the Nimrodel, and knew that I  was one of their  Northern kindred, and therefore they did  not hinder our  crossing; and  afterwards  they  heard  my song. Now they bid me climb up  with Frodo;  for they seem  to have had some tidings of him and of our journey. The others they ask to wait a little and to keep  watch at  the foot of the tree, until they have decided what is to be done.'      Out of  the  shadows a  ladder  was  let  down:  it  was made  of rope, silver-grey and  glimmering  in the dark, and  though it looked  slender  it proved  strong enough to bear  many men. Legolas ran  lightly up, and  Frodo followed slowly; behind  came Sam trying not to breathe loudly. The branches of the mallorn-tree grew  out nearly straight from the trunk, and then swept upward; but near the top the main stem divided into a crown  of many boughs,
  663. and  among these they  found that there had been built a wooden platform, or flet as such things were called in those days: the  Elves called it a talan. It  was  reached  by a round hole in  the  centre  through  which the ladder passed.      When Frodo came at last up on to the flet he found Legolas seated  with three other Elves. They were clad  in  shadowy-grey, and could  not  be seen among  the tree-stems, unless they moved suddenly. They stood up, and one of them uncovered a small lamp that  gave out a slender silver beam. He held it up,  looking at Frodo's face,  and Sam's. Then he shut  off the light again, and  spoke words of welcome in  his elven-tongue.  Frodo  spoke haltingly in return.      `Welcome!' the Elf then said  again in the  Common  Language,  speaking slowly. 'We seldom use any tongue but our own; for we dwell now in the heart of the forest, and do not willingly have dealings  with any other folk. Even our own kindred in the North are sundered from us. But there  are some of us still  who  go  abroad  for  the gathering  of news and the watching  of our enemies, and they speak the languages of other lands. I am one. Haldir is my name. My brothers, R®mil and Orophin, speak little of your tongue.      `But we have heard rumours of your coming, for the messengers of Elrond passed by Lurien on their way home up the Dimrill Stair. We had not heard of hobbits, or halflings, for many a long year,  and did not know  that any yet dwelt in Middle-earth. You do not  look evil! And since you come with an Elf of our  kindred, we are willing to befriend you, as  Elrond asked; though it is not our custom to lead strangers through our land. But you must stay here tonight. How many are you? '      `Eight,' said Legolas. `Myself, four hobbits; and two men, one of whom, Aragorn, is an Elf-friend of the folk of Westernesse.'      `The  name of Aragorn son of Arathorn is known in Lurien,' said Haldir, `and  he  has the favour of  the  Lady. All then is  well.  But you have yet spoken only of seven.'      `The eighth is a dwarf,' said Legolas.      `A dwarf! '  said Haldir. `That  is not well. We have not had  dealings with  the Dwarves since the Dark Days. They are not permitted in our land. I cannot allow him to pass.'      `But  he is from the Lonely Mountain, one of  Dbin's trusty people, and friendly to Elrond,' said Frodo. `Elrond himself  chose him to be one of our companions, and he has been brave and faithful.'
  664.      The  Elves  spoke together in  soft  voices, and questioned Legolas  in their own tongue. 'Very good,' said Haldir at last. `We will do this, though it is against our liking. If  Aragorn and Legolas will guard him, and answer for him, he shall pass; but he must go blindfold through Lothlurien.      `But now  we must debate  no  longer. Your folk  must not remain on the ground. We have been keeping watch on the rivers, ever since we saw a  great troop of Orcs  going north toward Moria, along  the skirts of the mountains, many days ago. Wolves  are howling on the wood's borders. If you have indeed come from Moria, the peril cannot  be far behind. Tomorrow early you must go on.      'The four hobbits shall climb up here  and  stay with us-we do not fear them! There is  another talan in  the next tree.  There the others must take refuge.  You, Legolas, must answer to us for them. Call  us, if  anything is amiss! And have an eye on that dwarf!'      Legolas at once went down the ladder to take Haldir's message; and soon afterwards Merry and Pippin  clambered up on to the high flet. They were out of breath and seemed rather scared.      `There!' said Merry  panting. `We  have lugged up your blankets as well as  our own. Strider has hidden all the rest of  the baggage in a deep drift of leaves.'      `You had no  need  of your burdens,' said  Haldir. `It is  cold in  the tree-tops in  winter, though the wind tonight is  in the  South; but we have food and drink to give you that will drive away the night-chill, and we have skins and cloaks to spare.'      The  hobbits accepted this  second (and far better) supper very gladly. Then they  wrapped themselves warmly,  not only  in  the fur-cloaks  of  the Elves, but in their own blankets as well, and  tried  to  go  to  sleep. But weary  as  they  were only  Sam found that  easy to  do. Hobbits do not like heights, and do not sleep upstairs, even when they have any stairs. The flet was not at  all to their liking as a  bedroom.  It had  no walls. not even a rail; only on one side  was there a  light  plaited  screen,  which could be moved and fixed in different places according to the wind.      Pippin went on  talking for a while. `I  hope, if I  do  go to sleep in this bed-loft, that I shan't roll off,' he said.      `Once I do get to sleep,' said Sam, 'i  shall go on sleeping, whether I roll off or no. And the less said,  the sooner I'll drop off, if you take my meaning.'
  665.      Frodo  lay  for some  time awake,  and looked up  at the stars glinting through the pale roof of quivering leaves. Sam was snoring at his  side long before he himself closed his eyes. He could dimly see  the grey forms of two elves  sitting motionless  with their  arms about  their  knees, speaking in whispers. The other had  gone down to take up  his watch on one of the lower branches. At  last lulled by the wind in the  boughs above,  and  the  sweet murmur of the falls of Nimrodel below,  Frodo  fell  asleep with the song of Legolas running in his mind.      Late in the  night he awoke. The  other hobbits were  asleep. The Elves were gone. The sickle Moon was gleaming dimly among the leaves. The wind was still. A little way off he heard a harsh laugh and the tread of many feet on the ground below. There was a ring of  metal. The sounds died  slowly  away, and seemed to go southward, on into the wood.      A head  appeared suddenly through the hole in the flet. Frodo sat up in alarm and saw that it was a grey-hooded Elf. He looked towards the hobbits.      `What is it? ' said Frodo.      `Yrch!' said  the Elf in a hissing whisper, and cast on to the flet the rope-ladder rolled up.      'Orcs! ' said Frodo. `What are they doing? ' But the Elf had gone.      There were  no more  sounds. Even the leaves were silent,  and the very falls  seemed  to  be hushed.  Frodo sat and  shivered in his wraps. He  was thankful that they had not been  caught on the ground; but he felt  that the trees offered little  protection, except concealment.  Orcs were  as keen as hounds on  a scent, it  was  said, but they could  also climb.  He drew  out Sting: it flashed and glittered  like a  blue  flame  and then  slowly faded again and grew dull. In  spite  of the  fading of his  sword  the feeling of immediate danger did not leave Frodo, rather it grew stronger. He got up and crawled to the opening and peered  down. He was almost certain that he could hear stealthy movements at the tree's foot far below.      Not Elves; for  the  woodland folk were  altogether noiseless in  their movements. Then he heard faintly a sound like sniffing: and something seemed to  be  scrabbling on the bark of  the tree-trunk. He  stared down into  the dark, holding his breath.      Something was now  climbing slowly, and  its breath  came  like a  soft hissing through closed teeth. Then coming  up, close  to the stem, Frodo saw
  666. two pale eyes. They stopped and gazed upward unwinking. Suddenly they turned away, and a shadowy figure slipped round the trunk of the tree and vanished.      Immediately  afterwards Haldir  came  climbing swiftly  up through  the branches. `There was something in this tree that I have never seen  before,' he said. `It was not an orc. It fled as  soon as I touched the tree-stem. It seemed to be wary, and to have some skill in trees, or I  might have thought that it was one of you hobbits.      'I did not  shoot, for I  dared not arouse any  cries:  we cannot  risk battle. A strong company of Orcs has passed. They crossed the Nimrodel-curse their foul feet in its clean water!-and went on down the old road beside the river. They seemed to pick up some scent, and they searched the ground for a while near the place where you halted. The three of us could not challenge a hundred,  so we went ahead and spoke  with feigned  voices, leading  them on into the wood.      `Orophin  has  now  gone in haste  back  to our  dwellings  to warn our people. None of the Orcs will  ever return out of  Lurien. And there will be many Elves hidden on the northern border before another night falls. But you must take the road south as soon as it is fully light.'      Day came pale from the East. As the light grew  it filtered through the yellow leaves of  the mallorn, and  it  seemed to the hobbits that the early sun of a  cool summer's morning was  shining. Pale-blue sky peeped among the moving branches. Looking  through an opening on the south side  of the  flet Frodo saw all the valley of the Silverlode lying  like a  sea of fallow gold tossing gently in the breeze.      The  morning was  still  young and cold when the Company set out again, guided now  by Haldir and his  brother  R®mil. `Farewell,  sweet Nimrodel! ' cried Legolas. Frodo looked back and  caught a gleam of white foam among the grey tree-stems.  `Farewell,' he said. It seemed to him  that he would never hear again  a running water so beautiful, for  ever blending its innumerable notes in an endless changeful music.      They went back to the path that  still  went on along the west side  of the  Silverlode, and for some way they followed it southward. There were the prints of orc-feet in the earth. But soon Haldir turned aside into the trees and halted on the bank of the river under their shadows.      `There is one of my  people yonder across the stream,' he said  `though
  667. you may not see him.' He gave a call like the low whistle of a bird, and out of a thicket of  young trees an Elf stepped, clad in grey, but with his hood thrown back; his hair glinted like gold in the morning sun. Haldir skilfully cast over the stream a coil of grey rope, and he caught it and bound the end about a tree near the bank.      `Celebrant is  already  a  strong stream here, as you see,' said Haldir 'and it runs both swift and deep, and is very cold. We do not set foot in it so far  north, unless  we must. But  in these days of watchfulness we do not make bridges. This is how we cross! Follow me!' He  made his end of the rope fast about another tree,  and then ran lightly along it, over the  river and back again, as if he were on a road.      `I  can walk  this path,' said  Legolas; `but the others have not  this skill. Must they swim?'      `No!' said Haldir. `We have two  more ropes. We  will fasten them above the other, one shoulder-high,  and another half-high, and holding these  the strangers should be able to cross with care.'      When this  slender bridge had been made, the Company passed  over, some cautiously and slowly, others more easily. Of  the hobbits Pippin proved the best for he was  sure-footed, and he walked  over quickly, holding only with one hand;  but he kept his eyes on the bank ahead and did not look down. Sam shuffled along, clutching hard, and looking down into the pale eddying water as if it was a chasm in the mountains.      He breathed with relief when he was safely across. `Live and  learn! as my gaffer used to say. Though he was thinking of gardening,  not of roosting like a bird,  nor  of trying  to walk like a spider. Not even my  uncle Andy ever did a trick like that! '      When  at length  all the Company was gathered on the  east  bank of the Silverlode,  the Elves untied the ropes and  coiled two of them.  R®mil, who had remained  on  the  other side, drew back the last  one, slung  it on his shoulder, and  with a wave of his hand went away,  back to  Nimrodel to keep watch.      `Now, friends,'  said  Haldir, `you have entered the Naith of Lurien or the  Gore, as you would  say, for it is the land that lies like a spear-head between the arms of Silverlode  and Anduin the Great. We  allow no strangers to spy  out the secrets of the  Naith. Few indeed  are permitted even to set foot there.      `As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The
  668. other may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.'      This was not at  all to the liking of  Gimli.  `The  agreement was made without my consent,' he said. `I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy.  My folk  have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we  done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.'      'I  do not doubt you,' said Haldir. 'Yet this is our law. I am  not the master of the law, and cannot set it aside. I  have done much in letting you set foot over Celebrant.'      Gimli was  obstinate. He  planted his feet  firmly apart, and laid  his hand upon the haft of his axe. 'I will go forward free,' he said, 'or I will go back and seek my own land,  where I am known to be true of word, though I perish alone in the wilderness.'      `You cannot go back,' said Haldir sternly. 'Now you have come thus far, you must be  brought before the Lord and the Lady. They shall judge  you, to hold  you or to  give you leave, as they  will. You cannot cross the  rivers again, and behind you  there are now secret sentinels  that you cannot pass. You would be slain before you saw them.'      Gimli  drew  his axe from his belt. Haldir and his companion bent their bows. 'A plague on Dwarves and their stiff necks! ' said Legolas.      'Come!'  said Aragorn. `If I am still to lead this Company, you must do as I bid. It is hard upon  the Dwarf to be thus singled  out. We will all be blindfold, even Legolas. That will be best, though it will make  the journey slow and dull.'      Gimli laughed  suddenly. `A  merry  troop of fools we  shall look! Will Haldir lead us all on a string, like  many blind beggars with one dog? But I will be content, if only Legolas here shares my blindness.'      `I am an Elf and a  kinsman here,' said Legolas, becoming angry  in his turn.      `Now let us cry: "a plague on the stiff necks of Elves!"' said Aragorn. `But the Company shall all fare alike. Come, bind our eyes Haldir! '      `I shall claim  full amends for every fall and  stubbed  toe, if you do not lead us well,' said Gimli as they bound a cloth about his eyes.      'You will have no claim,' said  Haldir. `I shall lead you well, and the paths are smooth and straight.'      `Alas for  the  folly  of these  days! ' said Legolas.  'Here  all  are
  669. enemies of the one Enemy, and yet I must  walk blind, while the sun is merry in the woodland under leaves of gold! '      `Folly it  may seem,' said Haldir. 'Indeed  in nothing is the power  of the Dark Lord more clearly shown  than in the estrangement that  divides all those who still oppose him.  Yet so little faith and trust do we find now in the world beyond Lothlurien, unless maybe in  Rivendell, that we dare not by our own  trust  endanger our  land. We live  now  upon  an island  amid many perils, and our hands are more often upon the bowstring than upon the harp.      `The rivers long defended us, but they are a sure guard no more for the Shadow has crept northward  all about  us. Some speak of departing, yet  for that it already seems too  late. The mountains to the west are growing evil; to the east the lands are waste, and full of Sauron's creatures; and  it  is rumoured  that we cannot  now safely pass southward  through  Rohan, and the mouths of the Great River are watched by the Enemy. Even if we could come to the shores of the Sea, we  should  find no  longer any shelter there. It  is said that there are still havens of. the High Elves, but they are  far north and west, beyond the land of  the Halflings.  But where  that may be, though the Lord and Lady may know, I do not.'      `You ought  at  least to guess,  since you have seen  us,' said  Merry. `There are Elf-havens west of my land, the Shire where Hobbits live.'      `Happy folk  are  Hobbits to dwell  near  the shores of the sea! ' said Haldir. 'It is long indeed since any of my folk have looked on it, yet still we remember it in song. Tell me of these havens as we walk.'      `I cannot,' said Merry. `I have never seen them.  I have never been out of my own land before. And if I had known what the world outside was like. I don't think I should have had the heart to leave it.'      `Not even to see fair Lothlurien? '  said Haldir.  'The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and  though in all lands love is  now  mingled with  grief, it grows perhaps the greater.      `Some there are among us  who sing that  the Shadow  will draw back and peace shall come again.  Yet I do not believe  that  the world about us will ever again be as it was of old, or the light of the Sun as it was aforetime. For the Elves, I fear, it will prove at best a truce, in which they may pass to  the  Sea  unhindered  and  leave the Middle-earth  for  ever.  Alas  for Lothlurien that I  love! It would be a  poor life in a land where no mallorn
  670. grew.  But  if  there  are  mallorn-trees beyond  the Great Sea,  none  have reported it.'      As they spoke  thus, the  Company filed slowly along the  paths  in the wood, led by Haldir, while the other Elf walked behind. They felt the ground beneath their  feet smooth and  soft, and  after  a while they  walked  more freely, without fear of hurt or  fall. Being deprived of sight, Frodo  found his hearing and  other senses  sharpened. He could smell the  trees and  the trodden  grass.  He could hear many  different notes in  the  rustle  of the leaves overhead, the river murmuring away on  his right, and  the thin clear voices of birds in  the sky. He  felt the sun upon his face  and hands  when they passed through an open glade.      As  soon  as he  set  foot  upon the  far  bank of Silverlode a strange feeling had come upon  him, and it  deepened as he walked on into the Naith: it seemed to him that  he had stepped over a bridge of time into a corner of the  Elder Days, and  was -now walking  in  a world that  was  no  more.  In Rivendell  there was memory of  ancient things; in Lurien the ancient things still lived on  in the waking world. Evil had been  seen  and  heard  there, sorrow had been known; the Elves  feared and  distrusted the world  outside: wolves  were howling on  the wood's borders: but  on  the land  of Lurien no shadow lay.      All that day the  Company marched on, until  they felt the cool evening come and heard  the early night-wind whispering among many leaves. Then they rested and slept without fear upon the ground;  for  their guides would  not permit  them to unbind their eyes, and they could  not climb. In the morning they went  on again,  walking without  haste. At noon they halted, and Frodo was aware that they had  passed out under the shining Sun. Suddenly he heard the sound of many voices all around him.      A marching host of Elves  had  come up silently:  they  were  hastening toward the northern borders to guard against any attack from Moria; and they brought news,  some of  which Haldir reported. The marauding orcs  had  been waylaid and  almost all destroyed; the remnant had fled westward towards the mountains, and were being pursued.  A strange creature also  had  been seen, running with bent back and  with hands near the ground, like a beast and yet not of beast-shape. It  had eluded  capture, and  they had not  shot it, not knowing whether it was good or ill, and  it had vanished down the Silverlode southward.
  671.      `Also,' said Haldir, `they bring me a message from the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim. You are all to walk free, even the dwarf Gimli. It seems that the  Lady knows who and what is each member of  your  Company.  New messages have come from Rivendell perhaps.'      He  removed the  bandage  first from Gimli's eyes.  'Your pardon! '  he said, bowing low. `Look on  us now with friendly eyes! Look and be glad, for you are the  first  dwarf to behold the  trees of the Naith of  Lurien since Durin's Day! '      When  his eyes were in  turn uncovered, Frodo looked up  and caught his breath.  They were  standing  in an  open  space. To the  left stood a great mound, covered with  a sward of grass as  green as Spring-time in the  Elder Days.  Upon it, as a double crown, grew two circles of trees: the  outer had bark  of  snowy white,  and  were leafless  but  beautiful in  their shapely nakedness;  the inner were mallorn-trees of great height,  still arrayed  in pale  gold. High  amid  the branches of a  towering  tree that stood in  the centre of all there gleamed a white flet. At the feet of  the trees, and all about  the  green hillsides the grass was studded with small golden  flowers shaped  like  stars.  Among them,  nodding  on  slender  stalks, were  other flowers, white and palest green: they glimmered  as a mist amid the rich hue of  the  grass. Over all the sky was blue, and  the sun  of afternoon glowed upon the hill and cast long green shadows beneath the trees.      'Behold! You  are come to Cerin Amroth,' said Haldir. `For this is  the heart  of the ancient realm  as it  was long ago, and here is the  mound  of Amroth, where in  happier days his high house was built. Here ever bloom the winter  flowers  in the  unfading grass:  the  yellow  elanor, and the  pale niphredil. Here we will stay awhile, and  come  to the city of the Galadhrim at dusk.'      The  others  cast themselves down  upon the  fragrant grass,  but Frodo stood  awhile still lost in wonder.  It seemed  to him that  he  had stepped through a high window  that looked on a vanished world. A light was  upon it for which his language  had no  name.  All that  he saw was shapely, but the shapes  seemed at once clear cut, as  if they had  been first conceived  and drawn at the uncovering of  his eyes, and ancient as if they had endured for ever. He saw no colour but those he knew, gold and white and blue and green, but  they were  fresh  and poignant,  as if  he  had  at  that  moment first
  672. perceived them and made for them names new and wonderful. In winter  here no heart  could  mourn for summer  or  for spring.  No  blemish  or sickness or deformity could be seen in anything that grew upon the earth. On the land of Lurien there was no stain.      He  turned  and saw that Sam was now standing beside him, looking round with a  puzzled expression, and rubbing his eyes as  if he was not sure that he was  awake. `It's  sunlight  and bright  day, right enough,'  he said. `I thought that Elves were all for moon and stars: but this is more elvish than anything I ever heard tell of. I feel as if I was inside a song. if you take my meaning.'      Haldir looked at them, and he seemed indeed to take the meaning of both thought  and  word.  He  smiled. `You  feel the  power of  the  Lady of  the Galadhrim,' he said. `Would it please you  to climb with me up Cerin Amroth? '      They followed  him  as  he stepped lightly up  the  grass-clad  slopes. Though he walked and  breathed, and about him living leaves and flowers were stirred by the same cool wind as fanned his face, Frodo felt that  he was in a timeless land that did not fade or change or fall into forgetfulness. When he had gone and passed again into  the outer world, still Frodo the wanderer from the Shire would walk there, upon the  grass among  elanor and niphredil in fair Lothlurien.      They entered the circle of white trees. As they did so the  South  Wind blew  upon Cerin Amroth and  sighed among the  branches. Frodo  stood still, hearing far off_ great seas upon beaches that had long ago been washed away, and sea-birds crying whose race had perished from the earth.      Haldir  had gone on and was  now  climbing to the high  flet. As  Frodo prepared to follow him,  he laid his hand  upon the  tree beside the ladder: never before had  he been  so  suddenly and so keenly aware of the  feel and texture of a tree's skin and of the life within  it. He  felt  a  delight in wood and  the touch of it, neither  as forester nor as carpenter; it was the delight of the living tree itself.      As he stepped out at last upon the lofty platform, Haldir took his hand and turned him toward the South. `Look this way first! ' he said.      Frodo looked  and saw, still at some  distance, a  hill of many  mighty trees, or a city of green towers: which it was he could not tell. Out of it, it seemed  to him that the  power and light came that held all the  land  in
  673. sway. He longed suddenly to fly like a bird to rest in the  green city. Then he looked  eastward and  saw all the land of Lurien running down to the pale gleam of Anduin, the Great  River.  He lifted his  eyes across the river and all the light went out, and he  was back again in the world he knew.  Beyond the river  the land  appeared flat and empty,  formless and vague, until far away  it  rose  again  like  a  wall, dark  and drear.  The sun that lay  on Lothlurien had no power to enlighten the shadow of that distant height.      `There  lies  the fastness of  Southern  Mirkwood,' said Haldir. `It is clad in a forest of dark fir, where the trees strive one against another and their branches rot and wither. In the midst upon a  stony height  stands Dol Guldur, where long the hidden Enemy had his dwelling. We fear that now it is inhabited again,  and with power sevenfold. A black cloud lies often over it of  late. In this high place you may see the two powers that are opposed one to another;  and ever  they  strive now  in thought,  but whereas the  light perceives  the very  heart of  the darkness,  its  own  secret has not  been discovered. Not yet.' He turned and climbed swiftly down, and  they followed him.      At the hill's foot Frodo found Aragorn, standing still  and silent as a tree; but in his hand was a small golden bloom of elanor, and a light was in his eyes. He was wrapped in some fair memory: and as Frodo looked  at him he knew that he beheld things as they once had been in this same place. For the grim years were removed from the  face of Aragorn, and he  seemed clothed in white, a  young lord  tall and fair; and he spoke words in the Elvish tongue to one whom Frodo could not see. Arwen vanimelda, nambril! he said, and then he drew a breath, and returning  out  of his thought  he looked at Frodo and smiled.      `Here  is the  heart of Elvendom on earth,' he said, `and here my heart dwells  ever,  unless there  be a light beyond the dark roads that  we still must tread, you and I. Come with  me!  ' And taking Frodo's hand in  his, he left the hill of Cerin Amroth and came there never again as living man.
  674.  
  675.  
  676.  
  677. Chapter 7. The Mirror of Galadriel
  678.  
  679.  
  680.      The  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  mountains,  and the  shadows  were deepening in the woods, when  they went on again.  Their paths now went into thickets  where  the dusk had already gathered. Night came beneath the trees as they walked, and the Elves uncovered their silver lamps.      Suddenly they came out into the open again and found themselves under a pale evening sky pricked by a  few early  stars.  There  was a wide treeless space  before  them, running in a  great circle  and bending away on  either hand. Beyond it was a deep fosse lost in soft shadow, but the grass upon its brink was green, as if it  glowed still in memory of the sun that  had gone. Upon the further side there rose to a great height a green wall encircling a green hill thronged with mallorn-trees taller than any they had yet seen  in all the land. Their height  could not be  guessed,  but they stood up in the twilight like living towers. In  their, many-tiered branches and amid  their ever-moving  leaves  countless  lights were  gleaming,  green and  gold  and silver. Haldir turned towards the Company.      `Welcome to  Caras  Galadhon!  ' he  said. 'Here  is the  city  of  the Galadhrim where dwell  the Lord Celeborn  and Galadriel  the Lady of Lurien. But we  cannot enter here,  for  the gates do not look northward. We must go round to the  southern side,  and the  way is  not  short,  for the city  is great.'      There was a road  paved with white stone  running on the outer brink of the  fosse. Along this  they went westward, with the city  ever  climbing up like  a  green cloud upon their left; and as the night deepened  more lights sprang forth, until all the  hill seemed afire with stars. They came at last to  a white  bridge, and crossing found  the  great gates of the  city: they faced south-west, set between the  ends of the  encircling  wall  that  here overlapped, and they were tall and strong, and hung with many lamps.      Haldir knocked  and  spoke,  and the gates  opened soundlessly; but  of guards Frodo could see no sign. The  travellers passed within, and the gates shut behind them. They were in a deep lane between the ends of the wall, and passing quickly through it they entered the City of the Trees. No folk could they  see, nor  hear  any feet upon the paths;  but  there were many voices, about them, and  in the air  above. Far away up  on the hill they could hear
  681. the sound of singing falling from on high like soft rain upon leaves.      They went along many paths and climbed many  stairs, until they came to the high places and saw before them amid a wide  lawn a fountain shimmering. It was lit by silver lamps that swung from the boughs of trees,  and it fell into a  basin of silver, from which a white stream spilled.  Upon the  south side of the lawn  there stood the mightiest  of  all  the trees;  its  great smooth  bole  gleamed  like  grey  silk, and up it  towered, until its first branches, far above, opened their huge limbs under shadowy clouds of leaves. Beside it  a  broad white ladder stood, and  at  its foot three  Elves  were seated. They sprang up as the travellers approached, and Frodo saw that they were tall and  clad in grey  mail, and from their shoulders hung long  white cloaks.      'Here dwell Celeborn and Galadriel,'  said Haldir.  `It is  their  wish that you should ascend and speak with them.'      One of the  Elf-wardens then blew a clear note on a small horn, and  it was answered  three times from far  above. `I will  go first,' said  Haldir. 'Let Frodo come  next and  with him  Legolas. The others may follow  as they wish. It is a  long climb for those that are not  accustomed to such stairs, but you may rest upon the way.'      As he climbed slowly up Frodo passed many flets: some on one side, some on  another,  and some set about  the  bole of the tree,  so that the ladder passed through them. At a  great height above the ground he came to  a  wide talan, like the deck of a great ship. On it was built a house, so large that almost  it would have served  for  a hall of Men upon the earth. He  entered behind  Haldir, and found that he was  in a chamber of oval  shape,  in  the midst of which grew the trunk of the great mallorn, now tapering towards its crown, and yet making still a pillar of wide girth.      The chamber was  filled with a  soft  light; its walls were  green  and silver and  its roof  of gold. Many Elves were  seated there.  On two chairs beneath the  bole of the tree and canopied by a living bough there sat, side by side, Celeborn and Galadriel.  They stood up to greet their guests, after the  manner  of Elves, even those who were accounted mighty kings. Very tall they were, and the Lady no less tall than the Lord; and they were grave  and beautiful.  They were clad wholly  in white; and the hair of the Lady was of deep gold, and the hair of the  Lord Celeborn was of silver long and bright; but no sign  of  age was upon  them, unless it were  in  the depths of their eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet  profound, the
  682. wells of deep memory.      Haldir led  Frodo  before them, and the  Lord welcomed  him in his  own tongue. The Lady Galadriel said no word but looked long upon his face.      `Sit  now beside  my chair, Frodo of the Shire!  ' said Celeborn. `When all have come we will speak together.'      Each of the companions he greeted courteously by name  as they entered. `Welcome Aragorn son  of Arathorn! ' he said. `It is eight  and thirty years of the world outside since you came to this land;  and those years lie heavy on you. But the end is near, for good or ill. Here lay aside your burden for a while! '      'Welcome son of Thranduil! Too seldom do my kindred journey hither from the North.'      `Welcome Gimli  son of  Gluin!  It is long indeed since  we  saw one of Durin's folk in Caras Galadhon. But today we have broken our  long  law. May it be a sign that though  the world is now dark better days are at hand, and that friendship shall be renewed between our peoples.' Gimli bowed low.      When all  the guests were seated before his chair  the  Lord  looked at them again. 'Here there  are eight,' he said. `Nine were to set out: so said the messages. But maybe  there has been some  change of counsel that we have not heard. Elrond is far away, and darkness gathers between us, and all this year the shadows have grown longer.'      `Nay, there was no change of counsel,' said the Lady Galadriel speaking for the first time. Her voice was clear and musical, but deeper than woman's wont. `Gandalf the Grey  set out  with the Company, but he did  not pass the borders of this land.  Now tell us where he is; for  I much desired to speak with him again. But  I cannot see him from afar,  unless he comes within the fences of Lothlurien: a grey mist is about him, and the ways of his feet and of his mind are hidden from me.'      'Alas! ' said Aragorn. `Gandalf the Grey fell into  shadow. He remained in Moria and did not escape.'      At these words  all the  Elves in the  hall  cried aloud  in grief  and amazement. `These are evil tidings,' said Celeborn, `the most evil that have been spoken here in long years full of grievous deeds.' He turned to Haldir. `Why  has nothing  of  this  been  told  to me before?  '  he  asked in  the Elven-tongue.      'We  have  not spoken  to  Haldir of  our  deeds or our purpose,'  said Legolas. `At  first  we were  weary and  danger  was  too close  behind  and
  683. afterwards we almost forgot our grief for a time,  as  we walked in gladness on the fair paths of Lurien.'      `Yet our grief  is  great  and our loss  cannot be mended,' said Frodo. 'Gandalf was our guide, and he led us  through  Moria; and when  our  escape seemed beyond hope he saved us, and he fell.'      'Tell us now the full tale! ' said Celeborn:      Then  Aragorn  recounted  all  that  had  happened  upon  the  pass  of Caradhras, and in  the  days that followed;  and  he spoke  of Balin and his book, and the fight in the Chamber of Mazarbul, and the fire, and the narrow bridge, and  the  coming of the Terror.  'An  evil  of  the Ancient World it seemed,  such as  I have  never seen before,' said  Aragorn. `It  was both a shadow and a flame, strong and terrible.'      'It was a Balrog of Morgoth,' said Legolas; `of  all elf-banes the most deadly, save the One who sits in the Dark Tower.'      `Indeed I saw  upon  the bridge that  which haunts our darkest dreams l saw Durin's Bane,' said Gimli in a low voice, and dread was in his eyes.      'Alas!  ' said Celeborn.  `We long have feared that  under Caradhras  a terror slept.  But had  I known that the Dwarves had stirred up this evil in Moria again,  l  would have forbidden you to pass the  northern borders, you and all that went with you. And  if it were possible, one would  say that at the last  Gandalf fell from wisdom into folly, going needlessly into the net of Moria.'      `He would be rash indeed that said that thing,' said Galadriel gravely. `Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. Those that followed him knew not  his mind and cannot report his full purpose. But however it may be with the  guide, the followers are blameless.  Do not repent of your welcome to the Dwarf. If our folk had been exiled long  and far from Lothlurien, who of the Galadhrim, even Celeborn the Wise, would pass nigh and would not wish to look upon their ancient home, though it had become an abode of dragons?      'Dark  is  the  water  of  Kheled-zvram, and cold  are the  springs  of Kibil-nvla,  and  fair were  the many-pillared halls  of Khazad-dym in Elder Days before  the fall of mighty  kings beneath  the stone.' She looked  upon Gimli, who sat glowering and sad, and she smiled. And the Dwarf, hearing the names given in his own ancient tongue,  looked up and met her  eyes;  and it seemed  to him that he looked  suddenly  into the heart of  an enemy and saw there love and understanding. Wonder came into his face, and then  he smiled
  684. in answer.      He rose clumsily and bowed  in dwarf-fashion, saying: `Yet more fair is the living land of  Lurien, and the Lady Galadriel is above  all the  jewels that lie beneath the earth! '      There was  a silence.  At length Celeborn spoke again. `I did  not know that your plight was so evil,' he said. `Let Gimli  forget my harsh words: I spoke in  the trouble of  my heart. I will do what I  can  to aid you,  each according  to his wish and need, but especially  that one of the little folk who bears the burden.'      'Your quest is known to us,' said Galadriel, looking at Frodo. `But  we will not here speak of it more openly. Yet not in vain will it prove, maybe, that you came to this land seeking aid, as Gandalf himself plainly purposed. For  the  Lord of  the  Galadhrim is  accounted the wisest of  the Elves  of Middle-earth, and a giver of  gifts beyond  the power of kings. He has dwelt in  the  West  since  the days of  dawn, and  I have dwelt  with  him  years uncounted;  for  ere the fall of Nargothrond or Gondolin  I  passed over the mountains, and together through ages  of  the world we have fought  the long defeat.      'I it was who first summoned  the White Council. And  if my designs had not  gone amiss, it would  have been  governed by Gandalf the Grey, and then mayhap things would have  gone otherwise. But even now there is hope left. I will not give you  counsel, saying do this,  or do that. For not in doing or contriving, nor  in  choosing between this course and another, can  I avail; but  only in knowing what was  and is, and in part also  what shall  be. But this I will  say to you: your Quest  stands upon the edge of a knife.  Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin  of  all. Yet hope remains  while all the Company is true.'      And  with that word  she held them with her eyes, and in silence looked searchingly at  each  of them  in turn. None save  Legolas and Aragorn could long endure her glance. Sam quickly blushed and hung his head.      At  length  the  Lady Galadriel  released them from her  eyes,  and she smiled. `Do not let your hearts be troubled,' she said. 'Tonight  you  shall sleep in peace.' Then they sighed and felt suddenly weary, as those who have been questioned long and deeply, though no words had been spoken openly.      `Go now! ' said Celeborn. `You are worn with sorrow and much toil. Even if  your Quest did  not concern us  closely, you should  have refuge in this City, until you were  healed and refreshed. Now  you shall rest, and we will
  685. not speak of your further road for a while.'      That night the Company slept upon the ground, much  to the satisfaction of the hobbits. The Elves spread for them a pavilion  among  the trees  near the fountain, and in it they laid soft couches; then speaking words of peace with fair  elvish voices they left  them.  For a little while the travellers talked of their night  before in the tree-tops, and of  their day's journey, and of the Lord and  Lady;  for they had not yet the  heart to  look further back.      `What  did you  blush for, Sam?  ' said  Pippin. `You soon  broke down. Anyone would have thought you had a guilty conscience. I hope it was nothing worse than a wicked plot to steal one of my blankets.'      `I never thought no such thing,' answered Sam, in no mood for jest. 'If you  want to know, I felt as if I hadn't  got nothing on,  and I didn't like it. She seemed to be looking inside  me and asking me what I would do if she gave me the chance of  flying back home to the Shire to a nice  little  hole with-with a bit of garden of my own.'      `That's funny,' said Merry. 'Almost  exactly what I felt  myself; only, only well, I don't think I'II say any more,' he ended lamely.      All  of them, it seemed, had fared  alike:  each  had felt that  he was offered a choice between a shadow full of fear that lay ahead, and something that he greatly  desired: clear before his mind it lay, and to get it he had only to  turn  aside from the road and  leave the Quest and  the war against Sauron to others.      `And it seemed  to me, too,'  said Gimli, `that my choice  would remain secret and known only to myself.'      'To me it seemed exceedingly strange,' said Boromir. `Maybe it was only a test,  and she thought to read our thoughts  for her own good purpose; but almost I  should  have said that she was tempting us, and offering  what she pretended to have the power to give. It  need not be  said that I refused to listen. The Men of Minas Tirith are true to their word.' But what he thought that the Lady had offered him Boromir did not tell.      And as for Frodo, he would  not speak, though  Boromir pressed him with questions. `She held you long in her gaze, Ring-bearer,' he said.      `Yes,'  said Frodo; `but whatever  came into my  mind  then I will keep there.'      `Well, have a care!  ' said  Boromir.  `I do not feel too sure  of this Elvish Lady and her purposes.'
  686.      `Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel! ' said Aragorn sternly. 'You know not what you say.  There is in her  and in  this land no evil, unless a  man bring  it  hither himself.  Then let him beware!  But  tonight I shall sleep without  fear  for the first time  since  I left Rivendell. And may  I sleep deep, and forget for a while my grief! I am weary in body and in  heart.' He cast himself down upon his couch and fell at once into a long sleep.      The others soon did the same, and no sound  or  dream  disturbed  their slumber. When they woke they found that the light of day  was broad upon the lawn before the pavilion.  and  the fountain rose and fell glittering in the sun.      They remained some  days in Lothlurien, so  far as they could  tell  or remember. All the while that they dwelt there the sun  shone clear, save for a gentle  rain that fell at times, and passed away leaving all  things fresh and clean. The air was cool and  soft, as if it were  early spring, yet they felt about them the deep  and thoughtful quiet of winter.  It seemed to them that they did little but  eat and drink and  rest, and walk among the trees; and it was enough.      They had not seen  the Lord and Lady  again, and they had little speech with the Elven-folk; for few of these  knew or would use the Westron tongue. Haldir  had  bidden them  farewell and gone back again to the  fences of the North, where great watch was  now kept since the tidings of Moria  that  the Company had  brought. Legolas  was away much among the Galadhrim,  and after the  first  night  he  did not sleep with  the  other companions,  though he returned  to  eat and talk with them. Often he  took Gimli with him  when he went abroad in the land, and the others wondered at this change.      Now as the companions sat or walked together they spoke of Gandalf, and all  that  each had  known and seen of him came clear before their minds. As they  were healed of hurt and weariness of body the grief of their loss grew more keen. Often they heard nearby Elvish voices singing, and knew that they were making songs  of  lamentation  for his fall,  for they caught  his name among the sweet sad words that they could not understand.      Mithrandir, Mithrandir  sang  the Elves, O Pilgrim Grey!  For  so  they loved  to  call  him.  But if Legolas was with  the  Company,  he would  not interpret the songs for them, saying that he had not the skill, and that for him the grief was still too near, a matter for tears and not yet for song.      It was Frodo who first put something of his sorrow into  halting words.
  687. He was seldom moved to make song or rhyme; even in Rivendell he had listened and had not sung himself, though his memory was stored with many things that others had made before him. But now as he sat beside the  fountain in Lurien and heard  about  him the  voices of the Elves, his thought took shape  in a song that seemed fair to him;  yet  when he  tried to repeat it to Sam  only snatches remained, faded as a handful of withered leaves.      When evening in the Shire was grey      his footsteps on the Hill were heard;      before the dawn he went away      on journey long without a word.
  688.  
  689.      From Wilderland to Western shore,      from northern waste to southern hill,      through dragon-lair and hidden door      and darkling woods he walked at will.
  690.  
  691.      With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men,      with mortal and immortal folk,      with bird on bough and beast in den,      in their own secret tongues he spoke.
  692.  
  693.      A deadly sword, a healing hand,      a back that bent beneath its load;      a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,      a weary pilgrim on the road.
  694.  
  695.      A lord of wisdom throned he sat,      swift in anger, quick to laugh;      an old man in a battered hat      who leaned upon a thorny staff.
  696.  
  697.      He stood upon the bridge alone      and Fire and Shadow both defied;      his staff was broken on the stone,      in Khazad-dym his wisdom died.      `Why, you'll be beating Mr. Bilbo next! ' said Sam.
  698.      'No, I am afraid not,' said Frodo. 'But that is the best I can do yet.'      'Well, Mr. Frodo, if  you  do have another go, I hope you'll say a word about his fireworks,' said Sam. `Something like this:      The finest rockets ever seen:      they burst in stars of blue and green,      or after thunder golden showers      came falling like a rain of flowers.      Though that doesn't do them justice by a long road.'      `No,  I'll  leave that  to  you,  Sam. Or perhaps to Bilbo. But-well. I can't talk of  it any more. I can't bear to think  of bringing  the news  to him.'      One  evening Frodo and Sam were walking  together in the cool twilight. Both of them  felt restless again. On  Frodo suddenly the  shadow of parting had fallen: he  knew somehow that the time was very near when  he must leave Lothlurien.      `What do you think of Elves now, Sam?  ' he said. `I asked you the same question once before-it  seems a very long while ago; but you have seen more of them since then.'      'I  have  indeed!  ' said Sam. 'And I reckon  there's  Elves and Elves. They're  all  elvish enough,  but they're not all the same. Now  these  folk aren't wanderers or homeless, and seem a bit nearer to the likes of us: they seem to belong here, more even than Hobbits do in the Shire. Whether they've made the land, or  the  land's  made them, it's hard to say,  if you take my meaning. It's  wonderfully  quiet here.  Nothing seems to  be going on,  and nobody  seems to  want it to. If  there's any magic  about,  it's right down deep, where I can't lay my hands on it, in a manner of speaking.'      'You can see and feel it everywhere,' said Frodo.      'Well,' said Sam, 'you can't see nobody working  it. No  fireworks like poor Gandalf used to  show. I  wonder  we  don't see nothing of the Lord and Lady in all these days. I fancy now that she could do some wonderful things, if she had a mind. I'd dearly love to see some Elf-magic, Mr. Frodo! '      'I  wouldn't,' said Frodo.  `I am content.  And I don't  miss Gandalf's fireworks, but his bushy eyebrows, and his quick temper, and his voice.'      `You're right,'  said  Sam.  `And don't think I'm  finding  fault. I've often wanted to  see a  bit of magic like what it tells of in old tales, but I've never heard of a  better land than this. It's like being at home and on a holiday at the same time, if you understand me. I don't want to leave. All
  699. the same,  I'm beginning to feel that if we've got to go on,  then we'd best get it over.      'It's the  job that's never started as takes longest  to finish, as  my old gaffer used to say. And I don't reckon that these folk  can do much more to  help us, magic or no. It's  when we leave  this land that we shall  miss Gandalf worse, I'm thinking.'      'I  am afraid that's only too  true, Sam,' said Frodo. `Yet I hope very much that before we leave we shall see the Lady of the Elves again.'      Even as he spoke, they saw,  as if she  came in answer to their  words, the  Lady Galadriel  approaching. Tall and white and fair she walked beneath the trees. She spoke no word, but beckoned to them.      Turning aside, she led them  toward  the southern slopes of the hill of Caras Galadhon,  and passing through  a high green  hedge they  came into an enclosed  garden. No trees  grew there,  and it  lay open  to the  sky.  The evening star had risen and  was  shining with white  fire above  the western woods.  Down a long flight of steps the Lady went into  a deep green hollow, through which ran murmuring the silver stream that issued from the  fountain on  the hill.  At the bottom, upon a  low  pedestal  carved like a branching tree, stood a basin  of silver.  wide  and shallow, and beside  it  stood  a silver ewer.      With water from the stream Galadriel  filled the basin to the brim, and breathed  on it, and when the water  was still again she spoke. `Here is the Mirror  of Galadriel,'  she said.  'I have  brought you here so that you may look in it, if you will.'      The air was very still, and the dell  was dark, and the Elf-lady beside him was tall and pale. 'What shall we  look  for,  and what shall we  see? ' asked Frodo, filled with awe.      `Many things I can command the Mirror to reveal,' she answered, `and to some I can  show  what  they desire  to see. But the  Mirror will  also show things unbidden,  and those  are  often stranger  and more  profitable  than things which we  wish  to behold. What you will see, if you leave the Mirror free to work, I cannot tell.  For it shows things that were, and things that are,  things  that yet may be. But which it is that he sees, even the wisest cannot always tell. Do you wish to look? '      Frodo did not answer.      `And you? ' she said, turning to Sam. 'For this is what your folk would call magic. I  believe;  though I  do not understand clearly what they mean;
  700. and  they seem also to use  the  same word of the  deceits of the Enemy. But this, if you will, is  the  magic of Galadriel. Did  you not  say  that  you wished to see Elf-magic? '      'I did,' said Sam, trembling a little between fear and curiosity. `I'll have a peep, Lady, if you're willing.'      `And I'd not mind  a glimpse of what's going on at home,' he said in an aside to  Frodo.  'It seems a terrible  long time that  I've been  away. But there, like  as  not I'll only  see the  stars,  or something that  I  won't understand.'      'Like as not,' said the Lady with a gentle laugh. `But come,  you shall look and see what you may. Do not touch the water! '      Sam climbed up  on  the foot of the pedestal and leaned over the basin. The water looked hard and dark. Stars were reflected in it.      `There's only stars, as I thought,'  he said. Then he gave a  low gasp, for  the stars went out. As if  a dark  veil had  been withdrawn, the Mirror grew grey, and then clear. There was sun shining, and the branches  of trees were waving and tossing in the  wind. But before Sam could make  up his mind what it  was that he saw, the  light faded; and  now he thought he saw Frodo with  a pale face lying fast asleep under a great dark cliff. Then he seemed to see  himself going along  a dim passage, and climbing an endless  winding stair. It came to him suddenly that he was looking urgently  for  something, but what it was he  did not know. Like a dream the vision  shifted and  went back, and he  saw the trees again. But this time they were not so close, and he could see what was  going on: they were not waving in the wind, they were falling, crashing to the ground.      `Hi!' cried Sam  in  an  outraged  voice.  'There's  that Ted  Sandyman a-cutting down trees as he  shouldn't. They didn't ought to be  felled: it's that avenue beyond the Mill that shades the road to Bywater. I  wish I could get at Ted, and I'd fell him!'      But  now  Sam  noticed  that the Old  Mill had  vanished,  and  a large red-brick building was being put up  where it had stood. Lots of  folk  were busily  at work. There was a tall red chimney nearby.  Black smoke seemed to cloud the surface of the Mirror.      'There's some devilry at work in the Shire,' he said. 'Elrond knew what he  was about when he wanted to send Mr. Merry back.' Then suddenly Sam gave a cry and sprang away. 'I can't stay here,' he said wildly. `I must go home.
  701. They've dug up Bagshot Row, and there's the  poor old gaffer  going down the Hill with his bits of things on a barrow. I must go home! '      'You cannot go home alone,' said the Lady. 'You did not wish to go home without your master before you looked in the Mirror, and  yet  you knew that evil things might well be happening in the  Shire.  Remember that the Mirror shows many things, and not all have yet come to pass. Some never come to be, unless those that behold the visions turn aside  from their path to  prevent them. The Mirror is dangerous as a guide of deeds.'      Sam  sat on  the  ground and  put his head in his hands. `I  wish I had never come  here, and I don't want to see  no  more magic,' he said and fell silent. After a moment he spoke again thickly, as if struggling with  tears. `No, I'll go home by the long road with Mr. Frodo, or  not at all,' he said. `But I hope I  do  get  back some  day. If  what  I've  seen turns out true, somebody's going to catch it hot! '      `Do you now  wish to look, Frodo? '  said  the Lady Galadriel. `You did not wish to see Elf-magic and were content.'      `Do you advise me to look? ' asked Frodo.      'No,' she said. `I do not counsel you one way or the other. I am  not a counsellor.  You may  learn something, and  whether what you  see be fair or evil, that  may be profitable,  and yet it may not. Seeing is both good  and perilous. Yet  I think, Frodo, that you have courage and  wisdom enough  for the venture, or I would not have brought you here. Do as you will! '      `I will look,' said Frodo, and he climbed on the pedestal and bent over the  dark  water.  At once the Mirror  cleared  and  he  saw  a twilit land. Mountains  loomed dark in the distance against a pale sky. A  long grey road wound back out of sight.  Far away a figure came slowly down the road, faint and  small at  first,  but  growing  larger and  clearer  as it  approached. Suddenly Frodo realized that it reminded  him  of Gandalf. He  almost called aloud the wizard's name, and then he saw that  the figure was clothed not in grey but in  white, in  a white  that shone faintly in the dusk; and  in its hand  there was  a white staff. The  head was so bowed that he could see  no face,  and  presently the figure turned aside round  a bend in the road  and went out  of  the Mirror's  view. Doubt came into Frodo's  mind:  was this a vision of Gandalf on one of his  many  lonely  journeys long  ago, or was it Saruman?      The vision now  changed. Brief and  small but  very vivid  he  caught a glimpse of  Bilbo  walking restlessly about his room. The table was littered
  702. with disordered papers; rain was beating on the windows.      Then there  was a pause, and after  it many swift scenes followed  that Frodo in some way knew to be parts of a great history in which he had become involved. The mist cleared and he saw a sight which he had never seen before but knew at once: the Sea. Darkness fell. The sea rose  and raged in a great storm. Then  he saw  against  the  Sun, sinking  blood-red into a  wrack  of clouds,  the black outline  of a tall ship with torn sails riding up  out of the  West.  Then a wide river flowing through a  populous city. Then a white fortress with seven towers. And then again a ship with  black sails, but now it was morning again, and the water rippled with light, and a banner bearing the  emblem of a white tree shone in the sun. A smoke  as of fire and battle arose, and again the  sun went  down in a burning red that faded into a grey mist; and into the mist a small  ship passed away, twinkling with lights. It vanished, and Frodo sighed and prepared to draw away.      But suddenly the Mirror went altogether dark, as dark as  if a hole had opened in the world  of sight, and Frodo looked into emptiness. In the black abyss there appeared a single Eye  that slowly grew. until it  filled nearly all  the  Mirror. So terrible was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to  cry out  or  to withdraw his gaze. The Eye was rimmed with fire, but  was itself glazed, yellow as a cat's, watchful  and  intent, and  the black slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.      Then the Eye began to rove, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew with certainty  and  horror that  among  the  many things that it sought  he himself  was one. But  he also knew that  it could not see him-not yet,  not unless he willed it. The Ring that hung upon its  chain  about his neck grew heavy, heavier than a great stone,  and his  head was dragged downwards. The Mirror  seemed  to be growing hot and  curls  of steam were rising  from the water. He was slipping forward.      `Do not touch the water!' said the  Lady  Galadriel softly. The  vision faded,  and Frodo found that he was  looking  at the cool stars twinkling in the silver basin. He stepped back shaking all over and looked at the Lady.      `I know what it was that you  last saw,' she said; `for that is also in my mind. Do not be  afraid! But do  not think that only by singing  amid the trees, nor  even by  the  slender arrows of  elven-bows,  is  this  land  of Lothlurien maintained and defended against its  Enemy. I say  to you, Frodo, that  even as I speak to you, I perceive the Dark Lord and know his mind, or all of his mind that concerns the Elves. And he gropes ever to see me and my
  703. thought. But still the door is closed! '      She lifted up her white arms, and spread out her hands towards the East in a  gesture of  rejection  and  denial. Edrendil, the Evening  Star,  most beloved of the Elves, shone clear above. So bright was it that the figure of the Elven-lady cast a dim shadow on the ground. Its rays glanced upon a ring about  her  finger; it  glittered like  polished  gold overlaid  with silver light, and a white stone in it twinkled as if the Even-star had come down to rest upon her hand. Frodo gazed at the ring with awe; for suddenly it seemed to him that he understood.      `Yes,' she said, divining his thought, `it is not permitted to speak of it,  and  Elrond  could  not  do  so.  But  it  cannot  be  hidden from  the Ring-bearer,  and  one who has seen  the Eye.  Verily it is in the  land  of Lurien upon  the finger of Galadriel  that one of the Three remains. This is Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, and I am its keeper.      `He suspects, but  he  does not  know  --  not  yet. Do you not see now wherefore your  coming is to us as  the footstep  of  Doom? For if you fail, then we are  laid  bare to the Enemy.  Yet if you succeed, then our power is diminished, and Lothlurien will fade, and the  tides  of  Time will sweep it away. We must depart into the West, or dwindle to a rustic folk of dell  and cave, slowly to forget and to be forgotten.'      Frodo bent his head. `And what do you wish? ' he said at last.      `That  what should be shall be,' she answered.  `The love of the  Elves for  their land  and  their works is deeper than the deeps of  the Sea,  and their regret  is  undying and cannot ever  wholly be assuaged. Yet they will cast all away rather than submit to Sauron: for they know him  now.  For the fate of Lothlurien you are not answerable but only for the doing of your own task. Yet I  could wish, were it of any avail, that the One  Ring had  never been wrought, or had remained for ever lost.'      'You are wise  and fearless  and fair, Lady  Galadriel,' said Frodo. `I will give  you the One Ring, if you ask for it. It is too great a matter for me.'      Galadriel laughed  with a sudden clear laugh. `Wise the  Lady Galadriel may be,' she said, `yet here she has met her match in  courtesy. Gently  are you revenged for my testing of your heart at our first meeting. You begin to see with a keen eye. I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired to  ask what you offer. For many long  years I  had pondered what I might do, should the  Great  Ring come  into my hands, and behold!  it was brought  within my
  704. grasp. The evil that was devised long ago  works on  in many  ways,  whether Sauron himself stands or falls. Would not that have been a noble deed to set to the credit of his Ring, if I had taken it by force or fear from my guest?      `And now at last  it comes. You will give me the Ring  freely! In place of  the Dark Lord  you will set up  a  Queen. And I shall  not  be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair! '      She  lifted up her hand and from the  ring that she wore there issued a great  light that  illuminated her  alone  and left all else dark. She stood before  Frodo seeming  now  tall beyond  measurement, and  beautiful  beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful. Then she let her hand fall, and the light faded, and suddenly she laughed again, and  lo! she was  shrunken: a slender elf-woman, clad in simple white, whose gentle voice was soft and sad.      'I pass the test,' she said. `I will diminish, and go into the West and remain Galadriel.'      They stood for a long while in silence. At length the Lady spoke again. `Let us return! ' she  said. `In the morning you must depart for now we have chosen, and the tides of fate are flowing.'      `I  would  ask  one thing before we go,'  said Frodo, `a  thing which I often meant to  ask  Gandalf in Rivendell. I  am permitted to  wear  the One Ring: why  cannot I see all the others  and know the thoughts  of those that wear them? '      `You have not tried,' she said. `Only thrice have you set the Ring upon your finger since you knew what you possessed. Do not try!  It would destroy you.  Did not Gandalf tell  you that  the rings give power  according to the measure of each possessor? Before you could use that power you would need to become far stronger, and to train your will to the domination of others. Yet even so, as Ring-bearer and as one that has borne it on finger and seen that which is hidden, your sight is grown keener. You  have perceived  my thought more clearly than many  that are accounted wise. You saw the Eye of him that holds the  Seven and the Nine.  And  did  you not see and recognize the ring upon my finger? Did you see my ring? ' she asked turning again to Sam.      'No, Lady,' he  answered. `To tell you the truth, I  wondered what  you were talking about.  I  saw a star through your finger. But if you'll pardon
  705. my speaking  out,  I think my master was right. I  wish you'd take his Ring. You'd  put things  to  rights.  You'd  stop them digging up the  gaffer  and turning him adrift. You'd make some folk pay for their dirty work.'      `I would,' she said. `That is how it would begin. But it would not stop with that, alas! We will not speak more of it. Let us go!'
  706.  
  707.  
  708.  
  709. Chapter 8. Farewell to Lurien
  710.  
  711.  
  712.      That  night  the Company was again summoned to the chamber of Celeborn, and there the Lord and Lady greeted them with fair words. At length Celeborn spoke of their departure.      `Now is the time,' he  said, `when those who wish to continue the Quest must harden their hearts to leave this land.  Those who no longer wish to go forward may remain here, for a while. But whether they stay or go, none  can be sure of  peace.  For we are come now to  the edge of doom. Here those who wish  may await  the oncoming of the hour till either the ways of  the world lie open again. or we summon them to the  last need of Lurien. Then they may return to their own lands, or else go to the long home of those that fall in battle.'      There was a silence. `They all resolved to  go forward,' said Galadriel looking in their eyes.      `As for me,' said Boromir, `my way home lies onward and not back.'      `That is true,' said Celeborn, `but is all this Company  going with you to Minas Tirith? '      `We have not decided our course,' said Aragorn. 'Beyond Lothlurien I do not know what Gandalf intended to do. Indeed I do not think that even he had any clear purpose.'      `Maybe not,' said  Celeborn, `yet when you leave this land, you  can no longer  forget  the Great  River.  As  some of you  know well, it  cannot be crossed  by travellers with baggage between Lurien and Gondor, save by boat. And are not the bridges  of Osgiliath broken down  and all the landings held now by the Enemy?      `On which side will you journey? The way to Minas Tirith lies upon this side, upon  the  west; but the straight road of the Quest  lies east of  the River, upon the darker shore. Which shore will you now take? '      `If my advice  is heeded, it will be the western shore,  and the way to Minas Tirith,' answered Boromir.  `But I  am not the leader of the Company.' The others said nothing, and Aragorn looked doubtful and troubled.      `I see that you do not yet know  what to do,' said Celeborn. `It is not my  part to choose for you; but I will help you as  I  may.  There are  some
  713. among  you who can handle  boats: Legolas, whose folk know  the swift Forest River; and Boromir of Gondor; and Aragorn the traveller.'      `And  one Hobbit! ' cried Merry. `Not all of us look on  boats as  wild horses. My people live by the banks of the Brandywine.'      `That is  well,' said Celeborn. `Then I will furnish  your Company with boats. They must be small and light, for  if you go far  by water, there are places where you will be forced to  carry them. You will come to  the rapids of Sarn  Gebir,  and maybe at  last to the  great falls of  Rauros where the River thunders down from Nen Hithoel; and there  are other perils. Boats may make your journey less toilsome for  a while.  Yet they  will  not  give you counsel:  in the  end  you must leave  them and the River, and turn  west-or east.'      Aragorn  thanked  Celeborn  many times. The gift of boats comforted him much, not least because there would now be no  need to decide his course for some days. The others, too, looked more hopeful. Whatever perils  lay ahead, it seemed better to float down the broad tide of Anduin to meet them than to plod  forward  with  bent backs. Only Sam was doubtful: he at any rate still thought boats as bad as wild horses, or worse, and not  all the dangers that he had survived made him think better of them.      `All shall be prepared for you and await you  at the  haven before noon tomorrow,'  said  Celeborn.  'I will send my people to you in the morning to help you make ready for the journey. Now we will  wish  you all a fair night and untroubled sleep.'      'Good  night,  my friends!  ' said Galadriel.  'Sleep in peace! Do  not trouble your  hearts overmuch with thought of  the road tonight.  Maybe  the paths that  you each  shall tread are  already laid before your feet, though you do not see them. Good night! '      The  Company  now  took  their leave  and  returned to their  pavilion. Legolas  went with them, for this  was to be their last night in Lothlurien, and in spite of the words of Galadriel they wished to take counsel together.      For a  long time they debated what they should do, and  how it would be best to attempt the fulfilling of their purpose with the Ring: but they came to no decision. It was plain that most of them desired to go  first to Minas Tirith, and to  escape at least for a while from  the  terror of  the Enemy. They would have been willing to follow a leader  over the River and into the shadow of Mordor; but Frodo spoke  no word, and Aragorn was still divided in his mind.
  714.      His  own  plan, while Gandalf remained with  them, had been to go  with Boromir, and with his sword help to deliver Gondor. For he believed that the message of the dreams was a summons, and that the hour had come at last when the  heir of  Elendil  should  come  forth and  strive with  Sauron  for the mastery. But in Moria  the burden of Gandalf had been laid  on  him; and  he knew that he could not now forsake the Ring, if Frodo refused in  the end to go with  Boromir. And  yet what help could he or any of the Company give  to Frodo, save to walk blindly with him into the darkness?      `I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be, for it is my duty,' said Boromir; and after  that he was  silent  for a while,  sitting with his eyes fixed  on Frodo, as if  he was trying  to  read the Halfling's thoughts.  At length he spoke  again, softly, as if he was debating  with himself. `If you wish only to destroy  the Ring,' he said,  `then there is little use in  war and weapons; and the Men of Minas  Tirith  cannot  help.  But if you wish to destroy the armed might  of the  Dark Lord,  then it is folly  to go without force into his domain; and folly  to throw away.' He  paused suddenly, as if he had  become aware that he was  speaking his thoughts aloud. `It  would be folly  to  throw  lives away,  I  mean,' he ended. `It is  a choice  between defending a  strong place  and  walking openly  into the arms  of death.  At least, that is how I see it.'      Frodo caught something  new  and strange  in  Boromir's glance, and  he looked hard at  him.  Plainly Boromir's thought was different from his final words. It would be folly to throw away: what? The Ring of Power? He had said something like this  at the Council, but then he had accepted the correction of Elrond. Frodo looked at Aragorn,  but he seemed  deep in  his own thought and made no sign that he  had  heeded Boromir's words.  And so  their debate ended. Merry and Pippin were  already asleep, and Sam was nodding. The night was growing old.      In the  morning, as they were  beginning  to  pack their slender goods, Elves that could speak their tongue came to them and brought them many gifts of food and clothing for the  journey.  The food was  mostly in the  form of very thin cakes, made of a meal that was baked a light brown on the outside, and inside  was  the colour of  cream. Gimli took  up one  of  the cakes and looked at it with a doubtful eye.      `Cram,' he said  under his breath,  as he broke off a crisp corner  and
  715. nibbled at it. His expression quickly changed, and  he ate  all the rest  of the cake with relish.      `No more,  no  more!' cried the  Elves laughing. `You have eaten enough already for a long day's march.'      `I thought  it was  only a kind of cram, such as  the Dale-men make for journeys in the wild,' said the Dwarf.      `So it is,' they answered.  `But we call it  lembas or waybread, and it is more strengthening than any food made  by Men, and  it  is more  pleasant than cram, by all accounts.'      `Indeed it is,' said Gimli.  'Why it is better than  the honey-cakes of the Beornings,  and  that  is great praise,  for the Beornings  are the best bakers that I know of; but they are none too willing to deal out their cakes to travellers in these days. You are kindly hosts! '      'All the same, we bid you spare the food,' they  said. 'Eat little at a time,  and only at need. For these things  are given to  serve  you when all else fails.  The  cakes  will keep sweet  for  many many  days, if  they are unbroken and left in their leaf-wrappings, as we have brought them. One will keep a traveller on his feet for a day of  long labour, even if he be one of the tall Men of Minas Tirith.'      The  Elves next unwrapped  and gave to each  of the Company the clothes they  had  brought.  For  each they  had  provided a  hood  and cloak,  made according to his size, of the light but warm silken stuff that the Galadhrim wove. It was  hard to say of what  colour they were:  grey with  the hue  of twilight under  the trees they seemed  to be; and yet if they were moved, or set in another light, they were green as shadowed leaves, or brown as fallow fields by  night, dusk-silver  as  water under  the  stars. Each  cloak  was fastened about the neck with a brooch like a green leaf veined with silver.      `Are these magic cloaks? ' asked Pippin, looking at them with wonder.      `I do  not  know what you mean by  that,' answered  the  leader  of the Elves. `They are fair garments, and the web is good, for it was made in this land. They are elvish robes certainly, if that is what  you  mean. Leaf  and branch, water and  stone: they have the hue and beauty  of all  these things under the twilight of Lurien that we  love; for  we  put the thought of  all that we love into all that  we make. Yet they  are garments, not armour, and they  will not turn shaft or blade. But they should serve you well: they are light to wear, and warm enough  or cool enough at  need.  And  you will find them a great aid in keeping out of the sight of unfriendly eyes, whether you
  716. walk among the stones or the trees. You are indeed high in the favour of the Lady! For she herself and her maidens wove this stuff; and never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people.'      After  their morning meal the Company said farewell to  the lawn by the fountain.  Their  hearts  were  heavy;  for it was a fair  place, and it had become like home to  them,  though they could not count the days and  nights that they had passed there. As they stood for a moment looking at the  white water in the sunlight, Haldir came walking towards them over the green grass of the glade. Frodo greeted him with delight.      'I have  returned from the  Northern  Fences,'  said the Elf, `and I am sent  now  to be your guide again.  The Dimrill Dale is  full of vapour  and clouds of  smoke,  and the  mountains are troubled. There are noises in  the deeps  of the  earth. If any of you had thought  of returning northwards  to your homes, you would not have been able to pass  that  way. But come!  Your path now goes south.'      As they walked through Caras Galadhon the green ways were empty; but in the trees above them many voices were murmuring and singing. They themselves went  silently. At last Haldir  led them down the  southward  slopes  of the hill, and they came again  to  the great  gate hung with  lamps, and to  the white  bridge; and so they  passed out and left the city of the Elves.  Then they turned  away from the paved road  and took  a path that went off into a deep  thicket  of  mallorn-trees,  and passed  on,  winding through  rolling woodlands  of  silver  shadow,  leading   them  ever  down,  southwards  and eastwards, towards the shores of the River.      They had gone  some ten miles and noon  was at hand when they came on a high green  wall. Passing through  an opening they came  suddenly out of the trees. Before them  lay a  long  lawn of shining grass, studded  with golden elanor  that  glinted  in the sun.  The lawn ran  out  into a narrow  tongue between  bright margins:  on  the  right  and  west  the  Silverlode  flowed glittering; on the left and  east the Great River  rolled its broad  waters, deep and  dark.  On  the  further  shores the  woodlands  still  marched  on southwards as far as the eye could see, but  all the banks  were  bleak  and bare. No mallorn lifted its gold-hung boughs beyond the Land of Lurien.      On  the bank of the Silverlode, at some distance up from the meeting of the  streams,  there was a hythe of white stones and  white wood. By it were moored many boats and  barges.  Some were  brightly painted, and shone  with
  717. silver and gold  and green, but most were either  white or grey. Three small grey boats had been made ready for  the travellers, and  in  these the Elves stowed their goods. And they added  also coils of rope, three  to each boat. Slender they looked, but strong,  silken  to the touch, grey of hue like the elven-cloaks.      `What  are  these?  '  asked  Sam,  handling  one  that  lay  upon  the greensward.      `Ropes indeed! ' answered an Elf  from the  boats.  'Never  travel  far without  a rope! And one that is long and strong and light. Such  are these. They may be a help in many needs.'      'You don't  need to  tell me  that! ' said Sam. `I came without any and I've been worried ever since. But I was wondering  what these  were made of, knowing a bit about rope-making: it's in the family as you might say.'      `They are made of hithlain,' said the Elf, `but there is no time now to instruct  you  in  the  art of their making. Had we  known that  this  craft delighted  you, we  could  have taught  you  much. But  now alas! unless you should at some time return hither, you must be content with our gift. May it serve you well! '      `Come! ' said Haldir.  `All is now ready  for you. Enter the boats! But take care at first! '      'Heed the words! ' said the other  Elves. 'These boats are light-built, and they are crafty and  unlike the boats of other folk. They will not sink, lade them as you will; but they are wayward if mishandled. It would be  wise if you accustomed yourselves to stepping  in and out,  here where there is a landing-place, before you set off downstream.'      The Company  was  arranged in this way: Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam were in one boat; Boromir,  Merry,  and Pippin  in another; and  in the  third  were Legolas and Gimli, who  had now become fast friends. In this last boat  most of  the goods and packs were  stowed. The boats were moved and  steered with short-handled paddles that had broad leaf-shaped blades. When all  was ready Aragorn led them  on a trial up  the Silverlode. The current  was  swift and they went  forward slowly. Sam sat  in the  bows,  clutching the  sides, and looking back wistfully to  the  shore. The sunlight  glittering on the water dazzled his eyes.  As they passed beyond the green field of the Tongue,  the trees  drew down to the  river's  brink. Here and there golden leaves tossed and floated on the  rippling stream.  The air was very bright and still, and there was a silence, except for the high distant song of larks.
  718.      They turned a sharp bend in  the river, and there, sailing proudly down the stream toward them, they saw a  swan of great size. The water rippled on either  side of the white  breast beneath its curving neck. Its  beak  shone like burnished gold, and its eyes glinted like jet set in yellow stones; its huge white wings  were half lifted.  A music came down the river as it  drew nearer; and suddenly they perceived that it was  a ship, wrought  and carved with elven-skill in the likeness of  a bird. Two elves clad in white steered it  with  black paddles. In the midst of the vessel sat Celeborn, and behind him  stood Galadriel, tall and white; a circlet of golden flowers was in her hair, and in her hand she held a harp, and  she sang. Sad and  sweet was the sound of her voice in the cool clear air:      I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:      Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.      Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,      And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.      Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,      In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.      There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,      While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.      O Lurien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;      The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.      O Lurien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore      And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.      But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,      What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?      Aragorn stayed his boat as the Swan-ship drew alongside. The Lady ended her  song and greeted them. `We have come to bid you our last farewell,' she said, `and to speed you with blessings from our land.'      `Though  you have  been our guests,'  said Celeborn, `you have  not yet eaten with  us, and we  bid you, therefore, to a parting feast, here between the flowing waters that will bear you far from Lurien.'      The Swan passed on slowly to the hythe, and they turned their boats and followed it. There in the last  end  of  Egladil  upon  the  green grass the parting feast was held;  but Frodo ate  and drank  little,  heeding only the beauty of the Lady and her voice. She seemed no longer perilous or terrible, nor  filled with hidden power. Already she seemed to him, as by men of later days Elves still  at times are seen: present and yet remote, a living vision
  719. of that  which has already been left far behind by  the  flowing  streams of Time.      After they had eaten and drunk,  sitting upon the grass, Celeborn spoke to them again of their journey, and lifting his hand he pointed south to the woods beyond the Tongue.      `As you go down the water,' he said, `you will find that the trees will fail, and you  will come to a barren country. There the River flows in stony vale amid  high moors, until at last after many leagues it comes to the tall island  of the Tindrock,  that we call Tol Brandir. There it casts its  arms about the steep shores of the  isle, and falls then  with a  great noise and smoke  over the cataracts of Rauros down into the Nindalf, the Wetwang as it is called in your  tongue.  That  is a wide region of sluggish fen where the stream becomes tortuous and much divided. There the Entwash flows in by many mouths from the Forest of  Fangorn  in the west. About that stream, on  this side of the Great River, lies Rohan. On the further side are the bleak hills of the Emyn Muil. The wind blows from the East there, for they look out over the Dead Marshes and the Noman-lands to Cirith Gorgor and the black gates of Mordor.      'Boromir, and any  that go with him seeking  Minas Tirith, will do well to leave the Great River  above Rauros and cross the Entwash before it finds the marshes.  Yet  they  should  not  go too far  up  that  stream, nor risk becoming entangled in the  Forest of Fangorn. That is a strange land, and is now  little  known. But  Boromir  and Aragorn  doubtless  do  not  need this warning.'      'Indeed we have heard  of Fangorn in  Minas Tirith,' said Boromir. `But what I have heard seems to me for the most part old wives' tales, such as we tell to our children. All that lies north of Rohan is now  to us so far away that fancy can wander freely there. Of old Fangorn lay  upon the  borders of our realm; but it is now many lives of men since  any of  us  visited it, to prove or disprove the legends that have come down from distant years.      `I have myself  been at whiles in Rohan, but I have  never  crossed  it northwards. When I  was sent out as a messenger, I passed through the Gap by the skirts  of the White Mountains,  and crossed the Isen  and the Greyflood into Northerland.  A  long and wearisome  journey.  Four  hundred  leagues I reckoned it, and it took me many  months; for I lost my horse at Tharbad, at the fording  of  the  Greyflood. After that  journey,  and  the road  I have
  720. trodden  with  this Company, I  do  not much doubt  that I shall find a  way through Rohan, and Fangorn too, if need be.'      `Then  I need say no more,' said Celeborn. 'But do not despise the lore that has come down from distant years; for oft it may chance  that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.'      Now Galadriel rose  from the grass, and taking a  cup  from one  of her maidens she filled it with white mead and gave it to Celeborn.      'Now it is time  to drink the cup of  farewell,' she said. `Drink, Lord of  the Galadhrim!  And let not your heart be  sad though night  must follow noon, and already our evening draweth nigh.'      Then  she brought  the  cup to each of the Company, and bade them drink and farewell. But when they had drunk she commanded them to sit again on the grass,  and  chairs were set  for her and  for Celeborn.  Her maidens  stood silent about her, and a while  she looked upon her guests. At last she spoke again.      'We have drunk  the cup of  parting,' she  said, `and the  shadows fall between us. But  before you go,  I have brought in  my ship gifts  which the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim now offer  you in memory of Lothlurien.' Then she called to each in turn.      `Here is  the gift  of Celeborn  and  Galadriel to the  leader  of your Company,' she  said to Aragorn, and she gave him a sheath that had been made to fit his sword.  It was  overlaid  with  a  tracery of flowers  and leaves wrought of silver and gold, and on it were set in elven runes formed of many gems the name And®ril and the lineage of the sword.      `The  blade  that  is  drawn from  this  sheath shall not be stained or broken  even in  defeat,' she said. `But is there aught else that you desire of me at our parting? For  darkness will flow between us, and it may be that we shall  not meet  again, unless it be far  hence upon  a  road that has no returning.'      And Aragorn answered: 'Lady, you know  all my desire, and  long held in keeping the only  treasure that I seek. Yet it is not yours to give me, even if you would; and only through darkness shall I come to it.'      `Yet maybe this will lighten  your heart,' said Galadriel;  `for it was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land.' Then she lifted from  her lap  a  great stone  of a clear green, set in  a silver brooch that  was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with  outspread  wings;
  721. and as  she held  it  up  the gem flashed  like the sun shining through  the leaves  of spring. `This  stone I  gave to Celebrnan my daughter, and she to hers; and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the house of Elendil! '      Then Aragorn took  the stone and pinned the brooch upon his breast, and those  who  saw  him wondered; for they  had  not marked before how tall and kingly  he stood, and it seemed to them that many years of toil  had  fallen from his shoulders. `For the  gifts that you have  given me I thank you,' he said, 'O Lady of  Lurien of whom were sprung Celebrnan  and Arwen  Evenstar. What praise could I say more? '      The Lady bowed her head, and she turned then to Boromir, and to him she gave a belt of gold; and to  Merry  and Pippin  she gave small silver belts, each  with a  clasp wrought like a golden flower. To Legolas she  gave a bow such as  the Galadhrim used,  longer and  stouter than the bows of Mirkwood, and strung with a string of elf-hair. With it went a quiver of arrows.      `For you little gardener and lover of trees,' she said to  Sam, `I have only a small gift.' She put into his hand a little box of plain  grey  wood, unadorned save for  a single silver rune upon the lid.  `Here  is set  G for Galadriel,' she said; `but  also it may stand  for garden in your tongue. In this box there is earth from my orchard, and such blessing  as Galadriel has still to bestow  is upon it. It will not keep  you on your  road, nor defend you  against any peril; but if you keep it and see your  home again at last, then perhaps it may reward  you.  Though you should find all barren and laid waste, there will be  few gardens in  Middle-earth that will bloom like your garden, if you sprinkle this earth there. Then you may  remember  Galadriel, and catch a glimpse  far off  of Lurien,  that you  have  seen  only  in our winter.  For our spring and our summer are gone  by,  and they will never be seen on earth again save in memory.'      Sam  went  red  to  the  ears  and muttered something inaudible, as  he clutched the box and bowed as well as he could.      `And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves? ' said Galadriel turning to Gimli.      `None,  Lady,' answered Gimli. `It is  enough for  me  to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words.'      `Hear all ye Elves! ' she cried to those about her. `Let none say again that Dwarves  are grasping  and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of  Gluin,
  722. you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.'      `There  is  nothing,  Lady  Galadriel,'  said  Gimli,  bowing  low  and stammering. `Nothing, unless it might be-unless it is permitted to ask. nay, to name a single strand of your hair, which  surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire.'      The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. 'It is said that the  skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues ' she said; `yet that is not true of Gimli. For  none have ever  made to me a request  so bold and yet so  courteous. And  how shall I  refuse, since I commanded him to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift? '      `Treasure it, Lady,' he answered, `in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the  smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to  be an heirloom of my house, and a  pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.'      Then the  Lady unbraided  one  of her long tresses, and  cut off  three golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli's hand. `These words shall  go with the gift,' she said. `I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if  hope  should not fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Gluin, that your hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.      `And you, Ring-bearer,' she said, turning to Frodo. `I come to you last who are not last in my thoughts. For you I have prepared  this.' She held up a small crystal phial: it glittered as she moved it, and rays of white light sprang from  her hand.  'In this  phial,' she said, `is  caught the light of Edrendil's  star,  set amid  the  waters of my fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is  about you. May it be a  light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out. Remember Galadriel and her Mirror! '      Frodo took the phial, and for a moment as it shone between them, he saw her  again  standing  like a  queen,  great and  beautiful,  but  no  longer terrible. He bowed, but found no words to say.      Now the Lady arose, and Celeborn led them back to  the  hythe. A yellow noon lay  on the  green land  of  the Tongue, and  the water  glittered with silver. All at last was  made  ready. The Company took  their places in  the boats as  before. Crying farewell, the Elves of Lurien with long  grey poles
  723. thrust them out into the flowing stream, and  the rippling waters bore  them slowly  away. The  travellers  sat still  without moving or speaking. On the green  bank near to the very point  of the Tongue  the  Lady Galadriel stood alone and silent. As they passed her they  turned and their eyes watched her slowly  floating away  from  them.  For  so it seemed  to  them:  Lurien was slipping  backward, like a bright ship masted with enchanted trees,  sailing on to forgotten shores, while they sat  helpless upon the margin of the grey and leafless world.      Even as they gazed,  the Silverlode passed out into the currents of the Great River, and their boats turned  and began to speed southwards. Soon the white form of the Lady  was small and  distant. She  shone like a window  of glass  upon a far hill in the westering sun, or as a remote lake seen from a mountain: a  crystal fallen in the lap of the land. Then  it seemed to Frodo that she lifted her arms in a  final farewell, and far but piercing-clear on the following wind came the sound of her voice singing. But now she  sang in the  ancient tongue of the Elves  beyond the Sea, and he  did not understand the words: fair was the music, but it did not comfort him.      Yet as is the way of Elvish words, they remained  graven in his memory, and long afterwards he interpreted  them, as well as he could:  the language was that of Elven-song and spoke of things little known on Middle-earth.      Ai! lauril lantar lassi s®rinen,      Yjni ®nutiml ve rbmar aldaron!      Yjni ve lintl yuldar avbnier      mi oromardi lisse-miruvureva      And®nl pella, Vardo tellumar      nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni      umaryo airetbri-lnrinen.
  724.  
  725.      Sn man i yulma nin enquantuva?
  726.  
  727.      An sn Tintalll Varda Oiolosslo      ve fanyar mbryat Elentbri ortanl      ar ilyl tier undulbvl lumbull;      ar sindanuriello caita mornil      i falmalinnar imbl met, ar hnsil      unt®pa Calaciryo mnri oiall.      Si vanwa nb, Rumello vanwa, Valimar!
  728.      Nambril! Nai hiruvalyl Valimar.      Nai elyl hiruva. Nambril!      `Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the  wind,  long years numberless  as the  wings of trees!  The long years have passed like  swift draughts of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West, beneath the blue  vaults of Varda wherein the stars  tremble  in the  song of her voice, holy and queenly. Who now shall refill  the cup for me? For now the Kindler, Varda,  the  Queen of the Stars,  from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds, and all paths are drowned deep in shadow; and out of a grey country darkness lies on the foaming waves between  us, and mist  covers the jewels of Calacirya  for ever. Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar! Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!  ' Varda is the name of that Lady whom the Elves in these lands of exile name Elbereth.      Suddenly the River  swept round a bend, and the banks rose  upon either side, and the light of Lurien was hidden. To that fair land Frodo never came again.      The travellers  now  turned their faces  to  the journey;  the  sun was before  them, and their  eyes were dazzled, for all were  filled with tears. Gimli wept openly.      `I have  looked  the  last  upon that which was  fairest,' he  said  to Legolas his companion. `Henceforward I will call  nothing fair, unless it be her gift.' He put his hand to his breast.      `Tell me,  Legolas, why  did I  come on this Quest?  Little did I  know where  the  chief peril  lay!  Truly Elrond spoke, saying that we  could not foresee what we might meet upon our road. Torment in the dark was the danger that I feared, and it did not hold me back. But I would not have come, had I known the  danger of light and joy. Now I have taken my worst wound in  this parting, even if I were to go this night straight to the Dark Lord. Alas for Gimli son of Gluin! '      `Nay! ' said Legolas. `Alas for us all! And for all that walk the world in these after-days. For  such is the  way of  it:  to find and lose,  as it seems to those whose boat is on the running stream. But I count you blessed, Gimli son of Gluin: for your loss you suffer of your own  free will, and you might have chosen otherwise. But you have not forsaken  your companions, and the least reward that you shall have is that  the memory of Lothlurien shall remain ever clear  and unstained in your heart, and  shall neither  fade nor
  729. grow stale.'      `Maybe,' said  Gimli;  `and  I  thank you  for  your words.  True words doubtless; yet all  such  comfort  is cold.  Memory  is not  what  the heart desires. That is only a mirror, be it clear as Kheled-zvram. Or  so says the heart  of Gimli  the Dwarf. Elves  may see  things otherwise.  Indeed I have heard that for them memory is more like to the waking world than to a dream. Not so for Dwarves.      'But let us talk no more of it. Look to the boat! She is too low in the water with all this baggage, and  the Great River is swift. I do not wish to drown my grief in cold water.' He took up  a paddle, and steered towards the western bank, following Aragorn's boat ahead, which had already moved out of the middle stream.      So the  Company went on their long way, down the wide  hurrying waters, borne ever  southwards. Bare woods stalked along either bank, and they could not see any glimpse of the lands behind. The breeze died  away and the River flowed without a sound. No voice  of  bird broke the silence.  The  sun grew misty as the day grew old, until it gleamed in a pale sky  like a high white pearl. Then it faded into the West, and dusk came  early, followed by a grey and  starless night. Far into the dark quiet hours they  floated on, guiding their boats under the overhanging shadows  of the western woods. Great trees passed  by like ghosts, thrusting their twisted thirsty  roots  through  the mist down into the water. It was dreary and cold. Frodo sat and  listened to the  faint lap and  gurgle  of  the River fretting among the  tree-roots and driftwood near the shore, until  his  head nodded and he fell into an uneasy sleep.
  730.  
  731.  
  732.  
  733. Chapter 9. The Great River
  734.  
  735.  
  736.      Frodo  was roused  by Sam. He found  that  he was  lying, well wrapped, under tall grey-skinned trees in a quiet corner of the woodlands on the west bank of the  Great River, Anduin. He had slept the night  away, and the grey of morning was dim among the bare branches. Gimli was busy with a small fire near at hand.      They started  again  before  the day  was broad.  Not that most of  the Company were eager to hurry southwards: they were content that the decision, which they must make at  latest  when they came  to  Rauros and the Tindrock Isle, still lay some days ahead; and they let the River  bear them on at its own  pace,  having no desire to hasten  towards  the perils that lay beyond, whichever course they  took in  the end. Aragorn  let  them  drift with  the stream as they wished, husbanding their  strength against weariness to come. But he insisted that at least they should  start early  each day and journey on  far into the evening; for he felt  in his heart that  time was pressing, and he  feared that the Dark Lord  had not been idle while  they lingered in Lurien.      Nonetheless  they saw no sign of  an enemy that  day, nor the next. The dull grey hours passed without event. As the third  day of their voyage wore on the lands changed slowly: the trees  thinned and  then failed altogether. On  the eastern bank to their left  they saw long formless slopes stretching up and away toward the sky; brown and withered they  looked, as  if fire had passed  over them, leaving no  living  blade of green:  an  unfriendly waste without even a broken tree or a  bold  stone to relieve the  emptiness. They had come to  the Brown Lands  that lay, vast and  desolate, between Southern Mirkwood and the hills of the Emyn Muil. What pestilence or war or evil deed of the Enemy had so blasted all that region even Aragorn could not tell.      Upon the west to their  right the land was treeless  also,  but it  was flat, and  in many places green  with wide plains of grass. On this side  of the River they passed forests of great reeds, so tall that they shut out all view to  the  west,  as  the  little  boats  went  rustling by  along  their fluttering borders. Their dark withered plumes bent and tossed in  the light cold airs, hissing softly and sadly. Here and there through  openings  Frodo could catch sudden  glimpses of rolling meads, and far  beyond them hills in
  737. the  sunset, and  away on  the edge of sight a dark line, where marched  the southernmost ranks of the Misty Mountains.      There was no sign of living moving  things,  save birds. Of these there were many: small  fowl whistling  and  piping in  the reeds,  but  they were seldom seen.  Once  or  twice the  travellers  heard  the rush  and whine of swan-wings, and looking up they saw a great phalanx streaming along the sky.      `Swans! ' said Sam. `And mighty big ones too! '      `Yes,' said Aragorn, 'and they are black swans.'      `How wide and empty and mournful all this country looks! '  said Frodo. `I  always imagined  that as one journeyed  south it got warmer and merrier, until winter was left behind for ever.'      'But we  have not journeyed  far south yet,'  answered Aragorn. `It  is still winter, and we are far from the sea. Here the world  is cold until the sudden spring, and we  may yet have snow again. Far away down in the Bay  of Belfalas, to which Anduin runs, it is warm and merry, maybe, or would be but for the  Enemy. But here we are  not above sixty  leagues, I guess, south of the Southfarthing away in your Shire, hundreds of long miles yonder. You are looking now south-west across the north  plains of the Riddermark, Rohan the land of the Horse-lords. Ere long we shall come to the mouth of the Limlight that runs  down from Fangorn to join  the  Great  River. That  is  the north boundary  of Rohan; and  of old all that lay between  Limlight and the White Mountains belonged to the Rohirrim. It  is a rich and pleasant land, and its grass has no rival; but in these evil days folk do not dwell by the River or ride often  to its shores.  Anduin  is  wide, yet  the orcs  can shoot their arrows  far across  the stream; and of late, it is said,  they have dared to cross the water and raid the herds and studs of Rohan.'      Sam looked from bank to  bank  uneasily. The trees had  seemed  hostile before, as if they harboured secret eyes and  lurking dangers; now he wished that  the trees were still  there. He felt  that the  Company was too naked, afloat in  little open  boats  in  the midst of shelterless  lands, and on a river that was the frontier of war.      In  the  next day  or two, as they went on, borne  steadily southwards, this feeling  of insecurity grew  on  all the Company. For  a whole day they took to  their  paddles  and  hastened forward. The banks  slid by. Soon the River broadened and grew more shallow; long stony beaches lay upon the east, and  there were  gravel-shoals  in  the water, so that  careful steering was needed. The Brown Lands rose into bleak wolds, over which flowed a chill air
  738. from  the  East. On  the  other  side the meads had  become rolling downs of withered grass amidst a land of fen and tussock. Frodo shivered, thinking of the lawns and fountains, the clear sun and gentle rains of Lothlurien. There was little speech and  no laughter  in any of  the boats. Each member of the Company was busy with his own thoughts.      The heart of  Legolas was running under  the stars of a summer night in some  northern glade amid  the beech-woods; Gimli  was fingering gold in his mind, and wondering if it were  fit to be  wrought into the  housing  of the Lady's gift.  Merry and  Pippin in the middle  boat  were  ill at  ease, for Boromir sat muttering  to himself, sometimes biting his nails,  as  if  some restlessness or doubt consumed him, sometimes  seizing a paddle and  driving the boat  close behind Aragorn's. Then Pippin, who sat  in  the bow  looking back, caught a queer gleam in his eye, as he peered forward gazing at Frodo. Sam had  long  ago  made up his mind  that,  though boats were maybe  not as dangerous  as  he  had been  brought  up  to  believe,  they were  far  more uncomfortable  than even  he had  imagined. He was  cramped  and  miserable, having nothing to do but stare at the winter-lands crawling by and the  grey water on either side of him. Even when the paddles were in use they  did not trust Sam with one.      As dusk drew down on the fourth day, he was looking back over the bowed heads of Frodo and Aragorn and the following boats; he was drowsy and longed for camp and the feel of earth under his toes. Suddenly something caught his sight: at first he stared  at it listlessly, then  he sat  up and rubbed his eyes; but when he looked again he could not see it any more.      That night they camped  on a small eyot close to  the western bank. Sam lay rolled  in  blankets  beside Frodo. `I had a funny dream an hour or  two before we  stopped, Mr.  Frodo,' he said. `Or maybe it wasn't a dream. Funny it was anyway.'      `Well,  what was it? ' said  Frodo,  knowing that  Sam would not settle down until he had told his tale, whatever it was. 'I haven't seen or thought of anything to make me smile since we left Lothlurien.'      `It wasn't funny that way, Mr. Frodo.  It was  queer.  All wrong, if it wasn't a dream. And you had best hear it. It was like this: I saw a log with eyes! '      `The log's  all right,' said Frodo.  `There are  many in the River. But leave out the eyes! '
  739.      `That I won't,'  said Sam. ` 'Twas  the eyes as made me sit  up,  so to speak. I saw what I took to be a log floating along in the half-light behind Gimli's boat; but I didn't  give much heed to it. Then  it seemed as if  the log  was slowly  catching us  up. And  that  was peculiar, as you might say, seeing as we were all  floating on  the stream together. Just then I saw the eyes: two pale sort of points, shiny-like, on a hump at the  near end of the log. What's  more, it  wasn't a  log, for it had  paddle-feet, like a swan's almost, only they seemed bigger, and kept dipping in and out of the water.      'That's when  I sat right up  and rubbed  my  eyes,  meaning  to give a shout,  if  it was still there  when I had rubbed the drowse out of my head. For the whatever-it-was was coming along fast now and  getting close  behind Gimli. But whether those two lamps spotted me moving and staring, or whether I came to my senses, I don't know. When I looked again, it wasn't there. Yet I  think I caught a glimpse with  the tail  of-my eye, as the saying  is, of something dark shooting under the shadow of the bank. I couldn't see no more eyes though.      `I said to myself: "dreaming again, Sam Gamgee," I said: and  I said no more just then. But  I've been thinking since. and now I'm not so sure. What do you make of it, Mr. Frodo? '      'I  should make nothing of it  but a log and the dusk and sleep in your eyes Sam, said  Frodo, if this was the  first  time that those eyes had been seen. But it isn't. I saw them away back north before we reached Lurien. And I saw  a strange creature with eyes climbing to the  flet that night. Haldir saw it too. And do you remember the report of the  Elves that went after the orc-band? '      `Ah,'  said  Sam. `I  do;  and  I remember  more too.  I don't  like my thoughts; but thinking of one thing and another, and Mr. Bilbo's stories and all, I fancy I  could put a name on the creature,  at a guess. A nasty name. Gollum, maybe? '      `Yes, that  is what  I  have feared for some  time,' said  Frodo. `Ever since  the night on the flet. I suppose he was lurking in Moria, and  picked up our trail then;  but I hoped that our stay in Lurien would throw  him off the scent again. The miserable creature must  have  been hiding in the woods by the Silverlode, watching us start off! '      `That's about it,'  said Sam. `And  we'd better be a  bit more watchful ourselves,  or we'll  feel some  nasty fingers  round our necks one of these nights, if we ever wake up to feel anything. And  that's what I  was leading
  740. up to. No need to trouble  Strider or the others tonight. I'll keep watch. I can sleep tomorrow, being no more than luggage in a boat, as you might say.'      `I might,' said Frodo, `and I might say "luggage with eyes".  You shall watch; but only if  you promise  to  wake me  halfway  towards  morning,  if nothing happens before then.'      In the  dead hours Frodo came out  of a  deep dark  sleep  to find  Sam shaking him. `It's a shame to wake you,' whispered Sam, `but that's what you said. There's  nothing  to  tell,  or not much. I thought I heard  some soft plashing and a sniffing noise, a while  back;  but  you hear  a lot  of such queer sounds by a river at night.'      He lay down, and Frodo sat up, huddled in his blankets,  and fought off his sleep. Minutes or hours passed  slowly, and  nothing happened. Frodo was just yielding  to the temptation to lie down again when a dark shape, hardly visible, floated close to one of the moored boats. A long whitish hand could be dimly seen as it shot out and grabbed the gunwale; two pale lamplike eyes shone coldly as  they peered inside, and then they  lifted  and gazed up  at Frodo  on the eyot. They were not more than a yard or  two  away,  and Frodo heard  the  soft hiss of intaken breath. He stood up, drawing Sting from its sheath, and faced the eyes. Immediately their light was shut  off. There was another hiss and a splash, and the dark log-shape shot away downstream  into the night. Aragorn stirred in his sleep, turned over, and sat up`      'What is it? ' he whispered, springing  up and coming to Frodo. `I felt something in my sleep. Why have you drawn your sword? '      `Gollum,' answered Frodo. 'Or at least, so I guess.'      `Ah! '  said Aragorn. `So you know about our little footpad, do you? He padded after us all through Moria and right down to Nimrodel. Since we  took to boats,  he has been lying on a  log  and paddling with  hands and feet. I have tried  to catch him once or twice at night; but he is slier than a fox, and as slippery as a  fish. I hoped the river-voyage would beat him, but  he is too clever a waterman.      `We  shall have to  try going faster tomorrow. You lie down  now, and I will keep watch for what is left of the night.  I wish I could  lay my hands on the wretch.  We might make him useful. But if I cannot, we shall have  to try  and lose him. He is very dangerous. Quite apart from murder by night on his own account, he may put any enemy that is about on our track.'      The night  passed without  Gollum showing  so  much as  a shadow again. After that the Company kept a sharp look-out, but they saw no more of Gollum
  741. while  the voyage lasted.  If he  was still following, he  was very wary and cunning.  At Aragorn's bidding they paddled now  for  long  spells, and  the banks went  swiftly  by.  But  they  saw little  of the  country,  for  they journeyed mostly by night and  twilight, resting by day, and lying as hidden as the  land  allowed.  In this way the  time passed without event until the seventh day.      The weather was still grey and overcast,  with  wind from the East, but as evening drew into night the sky away westward cleared, and pools of faint light,  yellow and pale green, opened under  the grey shores of cloud. There the white rind of the new Moon could be seen glimmering in the remote lakes. Sam looked at it and puckered his brows.      The next  day the  country on either side began to change  rapidly. The banks began to rise and grow stony.  Soon they were passing through a  hilly rocky land, and on both shores there were steep slopes buried in deep brakes of thorn and sloe, tangled with brambles and creepers. Behind them stood low crumbling  cliffs, and  chimneys of  grey weathered stone dark with ivy; and beyond  these again there  rose high ridges crowned with wind-writhen  firs. They were  drawing near to  the  grey  hill-country of  the  Emyn  Muil, the southern march of Wilderland.      There were many birds about the cliffs and  the  rock-chimneys, and all day high in  the  air flocks of  birds  had been circling, black against the pale sky. As  they  lay  in their  camp that day Aragorn watched the flights doubtfully, wondering if Gollum had been doing some mischief and the news of their voyage was now moving in the wilderness. Later as the sun was setting, and the Company was stirring and getting ready to start again, he descried a dark  spot against the  fading light:  a  great bird high  and far  off, now wheeling, now flying on slowly southwards.      'What is that, Legolas? ' he  asked, pointing to the northern sky.  'Is it, as I think. an eagle? '      'Yes.' said  Legolas.  `It is an eagle, a hunting  eagle. I wonder what that forebodes. It is far from the mountains.'      `We will not start until it is fully dark,' said Aragorn.      The eighth night of their journey came. It was silent and windless; the grey east wind had passed away. The thin  crescent  of the  Moon had  fallen early into the pale sunset, but the sky was clear above, and though far away in the South there were great ranges of cloud that still  shone faintly,  in
  742. the West stars glinted bright.      `Come! ' said Aragorn. `We will  venture one more journey  by night. We are coming to reaches of the River that I do not know well: for I have never journeyed by water in these parts before, not between here and the rapids of Sarn  Gebir. But if I am right in my reckoning, those are  still many  miles ahead. Still there are dangerous places even before we come there: rocks and stony  eyots in the stream. We must keep a sharp watch and not try to paddle swiftly.'      To Sam in  the leading  boat  was given the  task  of watchman. He  lay forward peering into the  gloom.  The night grew dark,  but the stars  above were strangely bright, and there was a glimmer On the face of the River.  It was close  on  midnight,  and they had been drifting for  some while. hardly using the paddles, when suddenly Sam cried out.  Only a few yards ahead dark shapes loomed up in the stream and he heard the swirl of racing water. There was  a swift  current which swung left,  towards the eastern shore where the channel was clear. As they were swept aside  the travellers could  see,  now very close, the pale foam of the River lashing against sharp rocks that were thrust out  far  into the stream like a  ridge of  teeth. The boats were all huddled together.      `Hoy  there, Aragorn! '  shouted Boromir, as his boat bumped  into  the leader.  `This is madness! We cannot  dare the Rapids  by night! But no boat can live in Sarn Gebir, be it night or day.'      `Back,  back! ' cried Aragorn. 'Turn! Turn if you can!  '  He drove his paddle into the water, trying to hold the boat and bring it round.      'I am  out of my reckoning,' he said to Frodo.  'I did not know that we had come so  far: Anduin  flows faster  than I thought.  Sarn Gebir must  be close at hand already.'      With  great  efforts  they  checked  the boats and slowly brought  them about; but at first they  could make only small headway against the current, and all  the time they were  carried nearer and  nearer to the eastern bank. Now dark and ominous it loomed up in the night.      'All together,  paddle!  '  shouted  Boromir. 'Paddle! Or  we  shall be driven on the  shoals.' Even as  he  spoke  Frodo felt the  keel beneath him grate upon stone.      At that moment there was a twang of bowstrings: several arrows whistled over  them, and some fell among them. One smote Frodo between the  shoulders
  743. and he lurched forward with a cry, letting go his paddle: but the arrow fell back. foiled by his hidden  coat of mail. Another passed  through  Aragorn's hood; and a  third  stood fast in the gunwale of  the  second boat, close by Merry's hand. Sam thought he could glimpse black  figures running to and fro upon the long  shingle-banks that lay under  the eastern shore.  They seemed very near.      `Yrch!' said Legolas, falling into his own tongue.      `Orcs! ' cried Gimli.      `Gollum's doing, I'll be bound.' said  Sam to Frodo. `And  a nice place to choose, too. The River seems set on taking us right into their arms! '      They all leaned forward straining at the paddles: even Sam took a hand. Every moment they expected to feel the bite  of black-feathered arrows. Many whined overhead or struck the  water nearby; but there were no more hits. It was dark,  but  not  too  dark  for  the  night-eyes of  Orcs,  and  in  the star-glimmer they must have offered  their cunning foes some mark, unless it was that  the grey cloaks Of Lurien and  the grey timber of the  elf-wrought boats defeated the malice of the archers of Mordor.      Stroke by  stroke they  laboured on. In the darkness it  was hard to be sure that they were indeed moving at  all; but slowly the swirl of the water grew less, and the  shadow of the eastern bank faded back into the night. At last, as far as they  could judge, they had reached the middle of the stream again and had driven their boats back some distance above the jutting rocks. Then  half turning they  thrust them  with all  their  strength towards  the western shore. Under the  shadow Of bushes leaning  out  over the water they halted and drew breath.      Legolas laid down his paddle and took  up the  bow that he had  brought from  Lurien. Then he  sprang ashore  and climbed  a few paces up  the bank. Stringing the bow  and  fitting an arrow  he turned, peering back  over  the River into  the darkness.  Across  the water  there were  shrill  cries, but nothing could be seen.      Frodo looked up at the Elf  standing tall above him, as he  gazed  into the night, seeking a mark to shoot at. His head was dark, crowned with sharp white  stars that glittered in  the  black pools  of the sky behind. But now rising and sailing up from the South the great clouds advanced, sending  out dark outriders into the starry fields. A sudden dread fell on the Company.      `Elbereth Gilthoniel!' sighed Legolas as he  looked up.  Even as he did so,  a dark shape, like a cloud and yet  not a cloud, for it moved far  more
  744. swiftly,  came out  of the blackness in  the  South,  and  sped towards  the Company, blotting out  all  light as it approached. Soon  it  appeared as  a great  winged creature, blacker  than the pits in  the night. Fierce  voices rose up to greet it from across the water. Frodo felt a sudden chill running through him and clutching  at his heart;  there was  a deadly cold, like the memory of an old wound, in his shoulder. He crouched down, as if to hide.      Suddenly  the great bow of  Lurien sang. Shrill went the arrow from the elven-string.  Frodo looked up. Almost above  him the  winged shape swerved. There was a harsh croaking scream, as it fell out of the air, vanishing down into the gloom of  the eastern  shore. The sky was clean again.  There was a tumult  of many voices far away, cursing and  wailing in  the darkness,  and then silence. Neither shaft nor cry came again from the east that night.      After a while Aragorn led the boats back upstream. They felt  their way along  the water's edge for some distance, until they  found a small shallow bay. A  few low  trees grew there close to the water, and behind them rose a steep  rocky  bank. Here the Company decided to stay and await the  dawn: it was useless  to attempt to move further by night.  They made no camp and lit no fire, but lay huddled in the boats, moored close together.      'Praised be  the bow  of Galadriel, and the  hand and eye of Legolas! ' said Gimli, as he munched a wafer of lembas. 'That was a mighty shot in  the dark, my friend!'      'But who can say what it hit?' said Legolas.      'I cannot,' said Gimli. `But  I am glad that the shadow came no nearer. I liked it not at all. Too much it reminded me of the shadow in Moria -- the shadow of the Balrog,' he ended in a whisper.      'It  was not a Balrog,' said Frodo, still shivering with the chill that had come upon him.  'It was  something  colder.  I think it was  --' Then he paused and fell silent.      'What do you think? ' asked Boromir eagerly, leaning  from his boat, as if he was trying to catch a glimpse of Frodo's face.      `I think -- No, I will not say,' answered Frodo. `Whatever it was,  its fall has dismayed our enemies.'      `So  it seems,' said Aragorn. `Yet where they  are,  and how many,  and what they will do next, we do not know. This night we must all be sleepless! Dark hides  us now. But what the  day  will  show  who can tell?  Have  your weapons close to hand! '      Sam  sat tapping the hilt of his sword as if he  were  counting on  his
  745. fingers, and looking up at  the sky. `It's very strange,' he  murmured. `The Moon's the same in the Shire  and  in  Wilderland, or  it  ought  to be. But either it's out of its running, or  I'm all  wrong  in my  reckoning. You'll remember,  Mr. Frodo, the  Moon was waning as we lay on the  flet up in that tree: a  week from the full,  I reckon. And we'd been a week on the way last night, when up pops  a New Moon as thin as a nail-paring, as if we had never stayed no time in the Elvish country.      `Well, I can  remember three  nights  there for certain,  and I seem to remember several more, but I would  take my oath it was never a whole month. Anyone would think that time did not count in there! '      `And perhaps that was the way of it,' said Frodo. `In that land, maybe, we  were in  a time that has elsewhere long gone by. It was  not,  I  think, until Silverlode bore us  back to Anduin that we returned  to the time  that flows through mortal lands to the Great Sea. And I don't  remember any moon, either new or old, in Caras Galadhon: only stars by night and sun by day.'      Legolas stirred in his boat. `Nay, time does  not tarry ever,' he said; `but change and growth is not in all  things and places alike. For the Elves the world moves, and it  moves both very swift and very slow. Swift, because they  themselves change little,  and all else  fleets by:  it is a  grief to them. Slow, because they do not count the running years, not for themselves. The  passing seasons are but ripples ever repeated in  the long long stream. Yet beneath the Sun all things must wear to an end at last.'      `But the wearing is slow in Lurien,' said Frodo. `The power of the Lady is on it.  Rich are  the hours,  though short they  seem, in Caras Galadhon, where Galadriel wields the Elven-ring.'      'That should not have  been said  outside Lurien, not even to me,' said Aragorn. `Speak no more of it! But so it is, Sam: in that land you lost your count.  There time  flowed swiftly by  us,  as  for the Elves. The  old moon passed,  and  a new  moon waxed  and waned  in  the world  outside, while we tarried there. And yestereve a new  moon came again.  Winter is nearly gone. Time flows on to a spring of little hope.'      The night passed silently. No voice or call was heard again  across the water. The  travellers  huddled  in  their  boats  felt the  changing of the weather. The air grew  warm and very still under the great moist clouds that had floated up from the South and the distant seas. The rushing of the River over the rocks of the rapids seemed to grow  louder and closer. The twigs of the trees above them began to drip.
  746.      When the day came the mood of the world about them had become soft  and sad. Slowly  the dawn grew  to a  pale light, diffused and shadowless. There was mist on the River, and white fog  swathed the shore; the far  bank could not be seen.      `I can't abide fog,' said  Sam; `but this  seems to be a lucky one. Now perhaps we can get away without those cursed goblins seeing us.'      `Perhaps so,'  said Aragorn. `But it  will  be  hard to find  the  path unless the fog lifts a little later on. And we must find the path, if we are to pass Sarn Gebir and come to the Emyn Muil.'      'I  do  not see why we should pass the Rapids or follow the  River  any further,' said Boromir. `If the Emyn Muil lie before us, then we can abandon these cockle-boats, and strike westward and southward, until we come to  the Entwash and cross into my own land.'      `We can, if we are making for Minas Tirith,' said Aragorn, `but that is not yet agreed. And such a course  may be more perilous than  it sounds. The vale of Entwash is flat and fenny, and fog is a deadly peril there for those on foot and laden. I would not abandon our boats until we must. The River is at least a path that cannot be missed.'      `But the Enemy holds the eastern bank,' objected  Boromir. `And even if you pass the Gates  of  Argonath and come  unmolested  to the Tindrock, what will you do then? Leap down the Falls and land in the marshes? '      `No! ' answered Aragorn. `Say rather that we will bear our boats by the ancient  way to  Rauros-foot, and  there take to the water again. Do you not know, Boromir, or do you choose to forget the North Stair, and the high seat upon  Amon Hen,  that were made in the  days of the great  kings? I at least have a mind  to stand in that high place again,  before I decide  my further course. There, maybe, we shall see some sign that will guide us.'      Boromir held out  long  against this choice;  but  when it became plain that Frodo  would  follow Aragorn, wherever he went, he gave  in. 'It is not the  way  of the  Men of Minas Tirith to  desert their friends at  need,' he said, `and you will need my strength, if ever you are to reach the Tindrock. To the tall isle I will go, but no further. There  I shall  turn to my home, alone if my help has not earned the reward of any companionship.'      The day  was  now  growing,  and  the fog  had lifted a  little. It was decided that Aragorn and Legolas should at once go forward along the  shore, while the  others remained  by the  boats. Aragorn hoped to find some way by which they could carry  both  their boats and their  baggage to the smoother
  747. water beyond the Rapids.      `Boats of the Elves would not sink, maybe,' he said, `but that does not say that  we should come through Sarn  Gebir  alive.  None have ever done so yet. No road was made by the Men of Gondor in this region, for even in their great  days  their realm did not reach up  Anduin beyond the Emyn  Muil; but there is a portage-way somewhere on  the western shore, if I can find it. It cannot yet have perished; for light boats used to journey  out of Wilderland down to Osgiliath, and still did so until a few years ago, when the Orcs  of Mordor began to multiply.'      'Seldom in my life has any boat come  out of  the North,  and  the Orcs prowl on the east-shore,' said Boromir. `If you go forward, peril  will grow with every mile, even if you find a path.'      `Peril lies ahead on every southward road,' answered Aragorn. `Wait for us one day.  If we do  not return in that time, you will know that  evil has indeed befallen us. Then you must take a new leader  and follow him as  best you can.'      It was with a heavy heart that Frodo saw Aragorn and Legolas climb  the steep bank and vanish into the  mists; but his fears proved groundless. Only two or three hours had passed, and it  was barely mid-day, when  the shadowy shapes of the explorers appeared again.      `All is well,' said Aragorn, as he clambered down the bank. 'There is a track,  and  it leads  to  a good landing  that  is still  serviceable.  The distance is not great: the head of the Rapids is but half  a mile below  us, and  they  are little more than a mile long.  Not far beyond them the stream becomes clear  and  smooth again,  though it runs  swiftly. Our hardest task will be to get our boats and baggage  to the old  portage-way. We have found it, but it lies well  back from  the water-side here, and runs under the lee of  a rock-wall, a furlong or more from the shore. We did not find where the northward  landing  lies. If it  still  remains,  we  must  have  passed  it yesterday night. We might labour far upstream and yet miss it in the  fog. I fear we must leave the River now, and make  for the  portage-way  as best we can from here.'      `That would not be easy, even if we were all Men,' said Boromir.      `Yet such as we are we will try it,' said Aragorn.      'Aye, we  will,' said Gimli. `The legs of Men will lag on a rough road, while a Dwarf goes on, be the burden twice his own weight, Master Boromir! '      The task proved hard indeed, yet in the end it was done. The goods were
  748. taken out of the boats and brought to the top of the bank, where there was a level space. Then the boats were drawn out of the water and carried up. They were  far less heavy than any  had  expected.  Of what  tree growing in  the elvish country  they were made not even Legolas knew; but the wood was tough and yet strangely light. Merry and Pippin alone could  carry their boat with ease  along the  flat. Nonetheless it  needed the strength of the two Men to lift  and haul them  over the ground that the  Company  now had to cross. It sloped up away from the River, a tumbled waste of  grey  limestone-boulders, with many hidden holes  shrouded with weeds and bushes;  there were thickets of brambles,  and sheer dells;  and here and there boggy pools fed by waters trickling from the terraces further inland.      One  by  one  Boromir and  Aragorn  carried the boats, while the others toiled  and scrambled after them with the baggage. At last  all was  removed and laid  on the  portage-way. Then with little further hindrance, save from sprawling briars and many fallen  stones, they  moved forward all  together. Fog still hung in veils upon the crumbling rock-wall, and to their left mist shrouded the River: they  could hear it  rushing  and foaming over the sharp shelves and stony teeth of Sarn Gebir, but they could not see it. Twice they made the journey, before all was brought safe to the southern landing.      There the portage-way, turning back  to the water-side, ran gently down to the shallow edge of a little pool. It seemed to have been  scooped in the river-side, not by hand,  but by the  water  swirling  down  from Sarn Gebir against a low pier of  rock that jutted out some way into the stream. Beyond it the shore rose sheer into a grey  cliff, and there was no further passage for those on foot.      Already the short afternoon was past, and a dim cloudy dusk was closing in. They sat beside the water listening to the confused rush and roar of the Rapids hidden in the mist; they were tired and sleepy, and their hearts were as gloomy as the dying day.      'Well, here we are, and here we must pass another night,' said Boromir. `We need sleep, and even if Aragorn had a mind to pass the Gates of Argonath by night, we are all too tired-except, no doubt, our sturdy dwarf.'      Gimli made no reply: he was nodding as he sat.      `Let us rest as much  as  we can now,' said  Aragorn. `Tomorrow we must journey by day again. Unless the weather changes once more and cheats us, we shall have  a good chance  of slipping through, unseen  by any eyes  on  the
  749. eastern shore. But tonight two must watch together in turns: three hours off and one on guard.'      Nothing happened that night  worse than a brief drizzle of rain an hour before dawn. As soon as it was fully light they started. Already the fog was thinning. They kept as  close as they could  to  the western  side, and they could see the dim shapes of the low cliffs rising ever higher, shadowy walls with  their  feet in the hurrying river. In the mid-morning the  clouds drew down  lower,  and it began to rain heavily. They drew  the  skin-covers over their boats to prevent them from being flooded, and drifted on: little could be seen before them or about them through the grey falling curtains.      The rain,  however, did  not  last  long.  Slowly  the  sky above  grew lighter,  and  then  suddenly the clouds broke,  and  their draggled fringes trailed away northward up the  River. The  fogs and mists were  gone. Before the travellers  lay  a wide ravine, with  great rocky sides to which  clung, upon  shelves  and in narrow crevices, a few thrawn  trees. The channel grew narrower and the River swifter. Now  they were speeding  along  with  little hope of stopping or turning, whatever they might meet ahead. Over them was a lane of pale-blue sky, around them  the dark overshadowed  River, and before them  black, shutting out  the  sun,  the hills of  Emyn Muil, in  which  no opening could be seen.      Frodo peering  forward saw in the distance two great rocks approaching: like  great pinnacles or pillars  of stone  they seemed.  Tall and sheer and ominous they stood upon either  side of the  stream. A  narrow  gap appeared between them, and the River swept the boats towards it.      `Behold the Argonath, the Pillars  of  the Kings! ' cried  Aragorn. `We shall pass them soon. Keep the boats  in  line, and as far apart as you can! Hold the middle of the stream! '      As Frodo was  borne towards them the great  pillars rose like towers to meet  him.  Giants  they  seemed  to  him,  vast  grey  figures  silent  but threatening. Then  he saw that they were  indeed shaped and  fashioned:  the craft and power  of  old had  wrought  upon them,  and  still they preserved through the suns and rains of forgotten years the mighty likenesses in which they  had been hewn. Upon great pedestals founded  in the deep  waters stood two great kings  of stone: still with blurred eyes and  crannied  brows they frowned upon  the North. The left hand of each  was raised  palm outwards in gesture of  warning;  in each  right  hand there  was an axe; upon each head there  was a crumbling helm  and crown. Great  power and majesty they  still
  750. wore, the silent wardens  of a long-vanished kingdom. Awe and fear fell upon Frodo,  and he  cowered down, shutting his eyes and not daring to look up as the boat drew  near. Even Boromir bowed  his head  as  the boats whirled by. frail and  fleeting  as little  leaves,  under  the  enduring  shadow of the sentinels of N®menor. So they passed into the dark chasm of the Gates.      Sheer rose the dreadful cliffs to unguessed heights on either side. Far off was the dim sky. The black waters roared and echoed, and a wind screamed over them.  Frodo crouching over his knees heard Sam in front  muttering and groaning: `What a place! What a horrible place! Just let me get out of  this boat, and I'll never wet my toes in a puddle again, let alone a river! '      `Fear  not! ' said a  strange voice behind him.  Frodo  turned and  saw Strider, and  yet  not Strider; for  the  weatherworn Ranger  was  no longer there.  In the  stern  sat Aragorn son of Arathorn, proud and erect, guiding the boat with skilful strokes; his hood was cast back, and his dark hair was blowing in the wind, a light was in his eyes: a king returning from exile to his own land.      'Fear not!  ' he said. `Long have I desired to look upon the likenesses of  Isildur and Anbrion, my sires of old.  Under  their shadow  Elessar, the Elfstone son of  Arathorn of the House  of  Valandil  Isildur's  son heir of Elendil, has nought to dread! '      Then the light of  his eyes faded, and he spoke to himself: `Would that Gandalf were  here! How my  heart yearns  for Minas Anor and the walls of my own city! But whither now shall I go? '      The  chasm was long and  dark,  and filled  with the noise of wind  and rushing water and echoing stone. It  bent somewhat  towards the west so that at first all was dark  ahead; but soon Frodo  saw a tall gap of light before him,  ever  growing.  Swiftly it  drew  near,  and  suddenly the  boats shot through, out into a wide clear light.      The sun, already long fallen from the noon, was shining in a windy sky. The pent  waters spread out into a long oval lake, pale  Nen Hithoel, fenced by  steep grey hills whose sides were clad with trees, but  their heads were bare,  cold-gleaming in  the sunlight. At  the far  southern end  rose three peaks.  The midmost stood somewhat forward from the others and sundered from them, an island  in the waters,  about  which  the flowing River  flung pale shimmering arms. Distant but deep there came up on the wind a  roaring sound like the roll of thunder heard far away.
  751.      `Behold Tol Brandir! ' said Aragorn,  pointing south to  the tall peak. 'Upon the left stands Amon Lhaw, and upon the right is Amon Hen the Hills of Hearing and of Sight. In the days  of the  great kings there were high seats upon  them, and watch was kept there. But it is said that no foot of  man or beast has ever been set upon Tol Brandir. Ere  the shade of  night  falls we shall come to them. I hear the endless voice of Rauros calling.'      The Company rested now for a while,  drifting south on the current that flowed through the middle  of  the lake. They  ate  some food, and then they took  to their paddles and  hastened on their way. The sides of the westward hills fell into shadow, and  the Sun  grew round and  red.  Here and there a misty  star peered out. The three peaks loomed before  them, darkling in the twilight. Rauros was roaring with a great voice.  Already  night was laid on the flowing waters when the travellers came at  last under the shadow of the hills.      The tenth  day of their journey  was over.  Wilderland was behind them. They could go no further without choice between the  east-way and  the west. The last stage of the Quest was before them.
  752.  
  753.  
  754.  
  755. Chapter 10. The Breaking of the Fellowship
  756.  
  757.  
  758.      Aragorn led them to  the right  arm of the River. Here upon its western side under the shadow of Tol Brandir a green lawn ran down to the water from the feet of Amon Hen.  Behind it rose the first gentle  slopes  of  the hill clad with trees, and trees marched away westward along the curving shores of the lake. A little spring fell tumbling down and fed the grass.      'Here  we will rest tonight,' said Aragorn. `This is the lawn  of Parth Galen: a fair place in the summer days of old. Let us hope  that no evil has yet come here.'      They drew up their boats on the green banks, and  beside them they made their camp.  They set  a watch, but had no sight nor sound of their enemies. If Gollum had contrived  to follow  them,  he  remained  unseen and unheard. Nonetheless as the night  wore on Aragorn grew uneasy, tossing often in  his sleep and waking. In the small hours he got up and came to Frodo, whose turn it was to watch.      `Why are you waking? ' asked Frodo. `It is not your watch.'      `I do  not know,' answered Aragorn; `but a shadow and a threat has been growing in my sleep. It would be well to draw your sword.'      `Why? ' said Frodo. `Are enemies at hand? '      `Let us see what Sting may show,' answered Aragorn.      Frodo  then drew the elf-blade from its sheath. To his dismay the edges gleamed  dimly in  the night. `Orcs! ' he said. `Not very  near, and yet too near, it seems.'      `I feared as much,' said Aragorn. `But maybe they are  not on this side of the River. The light of  Sting is faint, and it may point to no more than spies of Mordor  roaming on the  slopes  of  Amon  Lhaw.  I have never heard before of Orcs  upon Amon Hen. Yet who  knows what may happen in  these evil days, now  that Minas Tirith no longer holds secure the passages of  Anduin. We must go warily tomorrow.'      The day came like fire and smoke. Low in the East there were black bars of cloud  like the fumes of a great burning. The  rising  sun  lit them from beneath  with flames of  murky red; but  soon  it climbed above  them into a clear sky. The summit of Tol Brandir was tipped with  gold. Frodo looked out
  759. eastward and  gazed at the tall island.  Its  sides  sprang sheer out of the running  water. High up above the  tall cliffs were  steep slopes upon which trees climbed, mounting  one  head above another; and  above them again were grey  faces of inaccessible rock, crowned by  a great spire  of  stone. Many birds were  circling  about it, but no sign of  other living things could be seen.      When they had eaten, Aragorn called the Company together. `The  day has come at last,' he said: 'the day of choice which we have  long delayed. What shall  now become  of our Company that has  travelled  so far in fellowship? Shall we turn  west with  Boromir and go to the wars of Gondor; or turn east to the Fear and Shadow; or shall we break our fellowship and go this way and that as each may choose? Whatever  we do must  be done soon. We  cannot long halt here. The  enemy is on the eastern shore, we know; but I  fear that the Orcs may already be on this side of the water.'      There was a long silence in which no one spoke or moved.      'Well,  Frodo,'  said Aragorn at last. `I fear that  the burden is laid upon  you. You are the  Bearer  appointed by the  Council. Your  own way you alone  can choose. In this matter I cannot advise you. I am not Gandalf, and though I have tried to  bear his part, I do not know what design or hope  he had  for this hour,  if indeed he had any. Most  likely it seems that if  he were here now the choice would still wait on you. Such is your fate.'      Frodo did not answer at once. Then he spoke slowly. `I  know that haste is needed, yet I cannot choose. The burden is heavy. Give me an hour longer, and I will speak. Let me be alone! '      Aragorn looked  at  him with  kindly  pity. `Very  well,  Frodo  son of Drogo,' he  said. `You shall have an hour, and  you  shall be alone. We will stay here for a while. But do not stray far or out of call.'      Frodo sat for a moment with his head bowed. Sam, who had  been watching his master with  great  concern, shook his  head and  muttered:  'Plain as a pikestaff it is, but it's no good Sam Gamgee putting in his spoke just now.' ,      Presently Frodo  got  up and  walked away;  and Sam saw that  while the others restrained  themselves and did not stare at him,  the eyes of Boromir followed Frodo  intently, until he passed  out of sight in the  trees at the foot of Amon Hen.      Wandering  aimlessly at first in the  wood, Frodo found  that his  feet
  760. were leading  him up towards the  slopes of the hill. He came to a path, the dwindling ruins of a  road of long  ago. In steep places stairs of stone had been hewn,  but now they were  cracked  and worn, and split by the  roots of trees.  For some while he climbed, not caring which  way  he  went, until he came  to a  grassy place. Rowan-trees grew about it, and  in the midst was a wide  flat stone.  The  little upland lawn  was  open upon the  East and was filled now with  the early  sunlight. Frodo halted  and looked  out over the River, far  below  him, to Tol  Brandir and the birds wheeling in the  great gulf of air between  him and the untrodden isle.  The voice of Rauros was  a mighty roaring mingled with a deep throbbing boom.      He  sat  down upon the stone  and cupped his chin in his hands, staring eastwards but seeing little with his eyes. All that had happened since Bilbo left the Shire was passing through his mind,  and he  recalled and  pondered everything  that he could  remember  of Gandalf's words.  Time went on,  and still he was no nearer to a choice.      Suddenly he awoke from his thoughts: a strange feeling came to him that something was behind him, that unfriendly eyes were upon  him. He sprang  up and turned; but all that  he saw to his  surprise was Boromir, and his  face was smiling and kind.      `I was afraid for  you, Frodo,' he said, coming forward. `If Aragorn is right and Orcs are near,  then none of us should wander alone, and you least of all: so much depends on you. And my heart too  is heavy. May  I  stay now and talk for a  while,  since  I have found  you? It would comfort me. Where there are so many, all speech becomes a debate without end. But two together may perhaps find wisdom.'      `You are kind,'  answered Frodo. 'But  I do not think  that  any speech will help me.  For  I know what I should do, but I  am  afraid of doing  it, Boromir: afraid.'      Boromir stood  silent. Rauros roared endlessly on. The wind murmured in the branches of the trees. Frodo shivered.      Suddenly Boromir came and sat beside him. `Are you sure that you do not suffer needlessly? ' he said. `I wish to help you. You need counsel in  your hard choice. Will you not take mine? '      'I  think I know already  what counsel you would  give, Boromir,'  said Frodo. 'And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning of my heart.'      `Warning? Warning against what? ' said Boromir sharply.      'Against  delay. Against the  way that seems easier. Against refusal of
  761. the  burden  that  is laid on me. Against-well,  if it must be said, against trust in the strength and truth of Men.'      `Yet that  strength has  long  protected you far  away  in  your little country, though you knew it not.'      'I do not doubt the valour of  your  people. But the world is changing. The  walls of Minas Tirith may be strong, but they are not strong enough. If they fail, what then? '      'We shall fall in battle valiantly.  Yet there is still hope  that they will not fail.'      'No hope while the Ring lasts,' said Frodo.      'Ah! The Ring! '  said Boromir, his eyes lighting. 'The Ring! Is it not a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt  for so  small a thing? So small a thing! And I have seen it only for an instant in the House of Elrond. Could I not have a sight of it again? '      Frodo looked  up. His heart went suddenly cold.  He caught the  strange gleam in  Boromir's eyes, yet his face was still kind  and friendly.  'It is best that it should lie hidden,' he answered.      'As you wish. I care  not,' said Boromir.  'Yet may I not even speak of it? For you seem ever to think only of its power in the hands  of the Enemy: of  its evil  uses not  of its good.  The  world is changing, you say. Minas Tirith will fall,  if the Ring lasts. But why?  Certainly, if the  Ring were with the Enemy. But why, if it were with us? '      'Were you not at the Council?  ' answered Frodo. `Because we cannot use it, and what is done with it turns to evil.'      Boromir got up and walked about impatiently. 'So you go  on,' he cried. 'Gandalf, Elrond -- all these folk have taught you to say so. For themselves they may be right. These  elves and half-elves and  wizards, they would come to grief perhaps.  Yet often I  doubt if they are wise and not merely timid. But each to his own kind. True-hearted Men, they  will  not be corrupted. We of Minas Tirith have been  staunch  through long years  of trial. We do  not desire  the  power  of  wizard-lords,  only  strength  to  defend ourselves, strength in a just cause. And behold! in our need chance brings to light the -Ring of Power. It is a gift, I say; a gift to the foes of Mordor. It is mad not to use it, to  use the power of the Enemy against him. The fearless, the ruthless, these alone will  achieve victory.  What could not a warrior do in this  hour, a great leader? What could not Aragorn do? Or if he refuses, why
  762. not Boromir? The Ring would give  me power of Command. How I would drive the hosts of Mordor, and all men would flock to my banner!'      Boromir strode up and down, speaking ever more loudly: Almost he seemed to have forgotten Frodo, while  his talk dwelt on walls and weapons, and the mustering  of  men;  and he drew  plans  for  great alliances  and  glorious victories to be; and he cast down Mordor, and became himself  a mighty king, benevolent and wise. Suddenly he stopped and waved his arms.      'And  they tell  us to throw it away!' he cried. `I do not say  destroy it. That might be  well, if  reason could show any hope of doing so. It does not. The only  plan that  is proposed  to us  is that a halfling should walk blindly into  Mordor and offer  the Enemy every chance of recapturing it for himself. Folly!      'Surely you see it, my friend?' he said, turning  now suddenly to Frodo again. `You say that you are afraid. If it is so, the boldest should  pardon you. But is it not really your good sense that revolts?'      'No, I am afraid,' said Frodo.  'Simply  afraid. But I am glad  to have heard you speak so fully. My mind is clearer now.'      `Then  you  will come to  Minas Tirith? ' cried Boromir.  His eyes were shining and his face eager.      `You misunderstand me,' said Frodo.      'But you will come, at least for a while? ' Boromir persisted. 'My city is not far  now;  and it is little further  from  there to  Mordor than from here.  We have  been long in the  wilderness, and you need  news of what the Enemy is doing  before you make a move. Come with me, Frodo,' he  said. `You need  rest before your venture. if  go you must.' He laid  his  hand on  the hobbit's  shoulder in friendly fashion;  but Frodo  felt  the hand trembling with suppressed excitement. He stepped quickly away, and eyed with alarm the tall Man, nearly twice his height and many times his match in strength.      `Why are you  so unfriendly? '  said Boromir. `I am a true man, neither thief nor tracker. I  need your Ring: that you know now; but  I give  you my word  that I do not  desire to keep it.  Will you not at least  let me  make trial of my plan? Lend me the Ring! '      `No! no! ' cried Frodo. 'The Council laid it upon me to bear it.'      `It is by our own folly that the Enemy will  defeat us,' cried Boromir. `How it  angers  me!  Fool!  Obstinate fool!  Running wilfully to  death and
  763. ruining our cause.  If any mortals have claim  to the Ring, it is the men of N®menor, and not Halflings. It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It should be mine. Give it to me! '      Frodo  did not answer, but moved away  till the great  flat stone stood between them. `Come, come, my friend! ' said Boromir in a softer voice. 'Why not get rid of it? Why not be free of your  doubt and  fear? You can lay the blame on me, if you will.  You  can say that I was too strong and took it by force. For I am  too strong for you, halfling,' he cried;  and  suddenly  he sprang  over the stone  and leaped at Frodo. His fair and pleasant face  was hideously changed; a raging fire was in his eyes.      Frodo dodged aside and again put the stone between them. There was only one thing he could do: trembling  he pulled  out the Ring upon its chain and quickly slipped it on his finger, even as Boromir sprang at him  again.  The Man  gasped, stared for a  moment amazed, and then ran wildly about, seeking here and there among the rocks and trees.      'Miserable trickster!' he shouted. `Let me  get my  hands on you! Now I see your mind. You  will take the Ring  to Sauron and  sell us all. You have only waited  your  chance to  leave  us  in  the  lurch. Curse  you and  all halflings to death  and darkness! ' Then, catching his foot on  a stone,  he fell sprawling and  lay upon his face. For a while he was as still as if his own curse had struck him down; then suddenly he wept.      He rose and  passed  his  hand  over his eyes, dashing away  the tears. 'What have I said? ' he cried. `What have I done? Frodo, Frodo! ' he called. 'Come back! A madness took me, but it has passed. Come back! '      There was no answer. Frodo did not even hear his cries. He was  already far  away, leaping  blindly up  the path to the hill-top. Terror  and  grief shook  him, seeing in  his thought the  mad fierce face of Boromir,  and his burning eyes.      Soon  he came out alone on the summit of Amon Hen, and halted,  gasping for breath. He saw as through a mist a  wide  flat circle, paved with mighty flags, and surrounded with  a crumbling battlement;  and in the middle,  set upon four carven pillars, was a high seat, reached by a stair of many steps. Up  he went and sat upon the ancient chair, feeling like  a lost  child that had clambered upon the throne of mountain-kings.      At first he could see little. He seemed  to be in a  world of  mist  in which  there were only shadows: the Ring  was upon him.  Then here and there the mist gave way and he saw  many visions: small and clear as if they  were
  764. under his eyes upon a table, and yet remote. There was no sound, only bright living images.  The world  seemed to have shrunk  and  fallen silent. He was sitting upon the Seat of Seeing, on Amon Hen, the Hill of the Eye of the Men of  N®menor. Eastward he looked into  wide uncharted lands, nameless plains, and forests unexplored. Northward he looked, and the Great  River lay like a ribbon beneath him, and the  Misty Mountains stood small and hard  as broken teeth. Westward he looked and saw  the broad pastures of Rohan; and Orthanc, the pinnacle of Isengard, like a black spike. Southward he looked, and below his very feet the  Great River curled  like a toppling wave and plunged over the falls of Rauros into a foaming pit; a glimmering rainbow played upon the fume. And Ethir Anduin he saw, the mighty delta of the River, and myriads of sea-birds whirling like a white dust  in the  sun, and  beneath them a green and silver sea, rippling in endless lines.      But everywhere he looked he saw  the signs of  war. The Misty Mountains were  crawling  like anthills:  orcs were  issuing out  of a thousand holes. Under the  boughs of  Mirkwood there was  deadly strife of Elves and Men and fell  beasts. The  land of the Beornings was aflame; a cloud was over Moria; smoke rose on the borders of Lurien.      Horsemen  were  galloping on  the grass of  Rohan;  wolves poured  from Isengard. From the  havens of Harad ships of war  put out to sea; and out of the East Men were moving endlessly: swordsmen, spearmen, bowmen upon horses, chariots of chieftains  and laden wains. All  the power of the Dark Lord was in  motion. Then turning south  again  he  beheld Minas Tirith. Far away  it seemed. and beautiful: white-walled,  many-towered, proud  and fair upon its mountain-seat;  its battlements  glittered with  steel, and its turrets were bright with many banners. Hope leaped in his heart. But against Minas Tirith was  set  another  fortress,  greater and more  strong.  Thither,  eastward, unwilling his eye was drawn.  It passed the ruined bridges of Osgiliath, the grinning  gates of  Minas Morgul. and the  haunted Mountains, and it  looked upon Gorgoroth, the  valley of terror  in the  Land  of Mordor. Darkness lay there under the Sun. Fire glowed amid the smoke. Mount Doom was burning, and a  great  reek  rising.  Then at last  his  gaze was held: wall  upon  wall, battlement  upon  battlement, black, immeasurably strong,  mountain of iron, gate of steel, tower of adamant, he saw  it: Barad-dyr,  Fortress of Sauron. All hope left him.
  765.      And suddenly he felt the  Eye. There was an eye  in the Dark Tower that did not sleep. He knew that it had become aware of his gaze.  A fierce eager will  was there.  It leaped  towards him; almost  like a finger he  felt it, searching for him. Very soon it would nail him down, know just exactly where he was. Amon  Lhaw it touched. It glanced  upon Tol Brandir he threw himself from the seat, crouching, covering his head with his grey hood.      He heard himself crying out: Never, never! Or was it: Verily I  come, I come to  you? He could not tell. Then  as a flash  from some other point  of power there  came  to  his mind another thought: Take it off!  Take  it off! Fool, take it off! Take off the Ring!      The two powers strove in him. For a moment,  perfectly balanced between their piercing  points,  he  writhed,  tormented. Suddenly  he was aware  of himself  again. Frodo, neither  the  Voice nor the Eye: free to choose,  and with  one  remaining  instant in  which to  do so. He  took the Ring off his finger. He  was kneeling in clear  sunlight before  the  high  seat. A black shadow seemed to  pass like an arm above him; it  missed Amon Hen and groped out west,  and faded. Then all the sky was  clean and blue and birds sang in every tree.      Frodo rose to his feet. A great weariness was on him,  but his will was firm and his heart lighter. He spoke aloud to himself. `I will do now what I must,' he said.  'This at least is plain: the evil of the Ring is already at work even in the Company,  and the Ring must leave them before it  does more harm. I will go alone. Some I cannot  trust, and  those I  can trust are too dear  to me: poor old  Sam,  and Merry and  Pippin. Strider,  too: his heart yearns for Minas Tirith, and he will be needed there, now Boromir has fallen into evil. I will go alone. At once.'      He went quickly  down the path and came back to the lawn where  Boromir had found him. Then he halted, listening. He thought he could hear cries and calls from the woods near the shore below.      'They'll be hunting  for  me,' he  said. `I wonder how long I have been away. Hours, I should think.' He hesitated. 'What can  I  do? ' he muttered. 'I must go now or I shall never go.  I shan't  get  a  chance  again. I hate leaving them, and like  this without  any explanation. But surely  they will understand. Sam will. And what else can I do?'      Slowly he  drew out the Ring and put it  on  once more. He vanished and passed down the hill, less than a rustle of the wind.
  766.      The others remained long by the river-side. For some time they had been silent, moving restlessly about; but now they  were sitting in a circle, and they  were talking. Every now  and again they made efforts to speak of other things,  of  their  long road and many  adventures;  they questioned Aragorn concerning the realm of Gondor and its ancient  history, and the remnants of its great works that could still be seen in this strange border-land  of the Emyn  Muil: the stone kings and  the  seats of Lhaw and Hen, and  the  great Stair  beside  the falls  of  Rauros. But always  their  thoughts  and words strayed back to Frodo and the Ring. What would Frodo choose  to do? Why  was he hesitating?      `He is  debating  which course  is  the most desperate, I think,'  said Aragorn. 'And well he may. It is now more hopeless than ever for the Company to  go east, since we have  been tracked by Gollum,  and  must fear that the secret of our journey is already betrayed.  But Minas Tirith is no nearer to the Fire and the destruction of the Burden.      `We may remain there for a while  and make  a brave stand; but the Lord Denethor and all his men cannot hope to do what even Elrond  said was beyond his power: either to keep the Burden  secret. or to hold  off the full might of the Enemy when he comes  to take it.  Which way would any of us choose in Frodo's place? I do not know. Now indeed we miss Gandalf most.'      'Grievous is our loss,'  said Legolas.  'Yet we must needs make up  our minds without his aid.  Why cannot we decide, and so help Frodo? Let us call him back and then vote! I should vote for Minas Tirith.'      `And so should I,'  said Gimli. 'We, of course, were only sent  to help the  Bearer along the  road, to go no further than we wished; and none of us is under any oath or  command to  seek Mount Doom.  Hard was my parting from Lothlurien. Yet I have come so far, and I say this: now we  have reached the last  choice, it  is clear to  me that I  cannot leave Frodo. I would choose Minas Tirith, but if he does not, then I follow him.'      `And I  too will go with him,' said Legolas. `It would be faithless now to say farewell.'      'It would indeed be a betrayal, if we all left him,' said Aragorn. 'But if  he goes east,  then all need not go  with him; nor  do I think that  all should. That venture is desperate: as much so for eight as for three or two, or  one alone.  If  you  would let me choose,  then  I should  appoint three
  767. companions:  Sam, who  could not  bear it otherwise; and  Gimli; and myself. Boromir  will return to his own city,  where his father and his  people need him; and with him the others should go, or at  least Meriadoc  and Peregrin, if Legolas is not willing to leave us.'      `That won't do at all! ' cried Merry. 'We can't leave Frodo! Pippin and I  always intended to go wherever he went,  and we still  do. But we did not realize what that would mean. It  seemed different so far away, in the Shire or in Rivendell. It  would  be mad and cruel to let Frodo go  to Mordor. Why can't we stop him?'      'We must stop  him,'  said Pippin.  `And  that is what  he  is worrying about, I am sure. He knows we shan't agree to his going east. And he doesn't like to ask anyone to go with him, poor old fellow. Imagine it: going off to Mordor  alone! ' Pippin shuddered. 'But the dear silly  old hobbit, he ought to know that he  hasn't got to ask.  He ought  to know that if we can't stop him, we shan't leave him.'      'Begging  your  pardon,'  said  Sam. 'I don't  think you understand  my master  at all.  He isn't hesitating about which way  to  go. Of course not! What's the good of Minas Tirith anyway? To him, I mean, begging your pardon, Master Boromir,' he added, and turned. It was then that they discovered that Boromir, who at first had been sitting silent on  the outside of the circle, was no longer there.      `Now where's he got to? ' cried Sam, looking worried.  'He's been a bit queer lately, to my mind. But anyway he's  not in this business. He's off to his  home, as he always said;  and no blame to  him. But Mr. Frodo, he knows he's got to find the Cracks of Doom,  if  he can. But he's  afraid. Now it's come to the point, he's just plain terrified. That's what his trouble is. Of course  he's had  a bit of schooling, so to speak-we  all have-since we left home, or  he'd be so terrified he'd just  fling  the Ring in the  River  and bolt. But he's still too frightened to start. And he isn't worrying about us either: whether we'll  go along with him or no. He knows we mean to.  That's another thing that's  bothering  him. If  he  screws himself up to go, he'll want to go alone. Mark my words!  We're going to  have trouble when he comes back. For he'll screw himself up all right, as sure as his name's Baggins.'      'I believe  you speak more  wisely than any of us,  Sam,' said Aragorn. `And what shall we do, if you prove right? '
  768.      'Stop him! Don't let him go! ' cried Pippin.      'I wonder?  '  said Aragorn.  `He is  the Bearer, and  the fate  of the Burden is on him. I do not think that it is our part to drive him one way or the  other. Nor  do I  think that we  should succeed, if we tried. There are other powers at work far stronger.'      `Well, I wish  Frodo would "screw himself up" and come back. and let us get it over,' said Pippin. `This waiting is horrible! Surely the time is up? '      `Yes,' said Aragorn. 'The hour  is long passed. The morning is  wearing away. We must call for him.'      At  that  moment Boromir  reappeared.  He  came out from the  trees and walked  towards them  without speaking.  His  face  looked grim and sad.  He paused as if counting those that were present, and then sat down aloof, with his eyes on the ground.      `Where have you been, Boromir? ' asked Aragorn. `Have you seen Frodo? '      Boromir hesitated for  a second.  `Yes,  and no,'  he  answered slowly. `Yes: I found him some way up the hill,  and I spoke to  him. I urged him to come to  Minas Tirith and  not to go  east. I grew angry and he  left me. He vanished. I have  never seen such a thing happen before. though I have heard of it in tales. He must have put the Ring on. I could not  find him again. I thought he would return to you.'      'Is that all that you have to say? ' said Aragorn, looking hard and not too kindly at Boromir.      `Yes,' he answered. `I will say no more yet.'      `This is  bad!' cried Sam, jumping up. `I don't know  what this Man has been up to. Why should Mr. Frodo put  the thing on? He didn't ought to have; and if he has, goodness knows what may have happened!'      'But he wouldn't keep it on`' said Merry. `Not when he had  escaped the unwelcome visitor, like Bilbo used to.'      `But where did he go? Where is he? ' cried Pippin. 'He's been away ages now.'      `How long is it since you saw Frodo last, Boromir? ' asked Aragorn.      `Half  an hour, maybe,' he answered.  `Or it  might be an hour. I  have wandered for  some time since.  I do not  know! I do not know! ' He  put his head in his hands, and sat as if bowed with grief.      `An hour since he vanished! ' shouted Sam. `We must try and find him at once. Come on! '
  769.      `Wait  a moment!  ' cried Aragorn. `We must  divide up into pairs,  and arrange-here, hold on! Wait! '      It was no good. They took no notice of him. Sam had dashed  off  first. Merry  and Pippin  had followed, and were already disappearing westward into the trees  by  the  shore,  shouting:  Frodo! Frodo!  in  their clear,  high hobbit-voices. Legolas and  Gimli were running.  A  sudden  panic or madness seemed to have fallen on the Company.      `We  shall all be scattered and lost,' groaned Aragorn. `Boromir!  I do not know what part you have played in this mischief, but help  now! Go after those  two  young hobbits,  and guard them at  the least, even if you cannot find Frodo. Come back to this spot, if you find him, or any traces of him. I shall return soon.'      Aragorn  sprang swiftly away and  went in pursuit of  Sam. Just  as  he reached the  little lawn among the rowans  he  overtook him, toiling uphill, panting and calling, Frodo!      `Come with me, Sam! '  he said.  `None of us should be alone.  There is mischief about. I feel it.  I am going to the top, to  the Seat of Amon Hen, to  see what may be  seen. And look! It is  as  my heart guessed, Frodo went this way. Follow me, and keep your eyes open! ' He sped up the path.      Sam did his best, but he could not keep up with Strider the Ranger, and soon fell behind. He had not gone far before Aragorn was out of sight ahead. Sam stopped and puffed. Suddenly he clapped his hand to his head.      `Whoa,  Sam  Gamgee! ' he said aloud. `Your legs are too short, so  use your head! Let me  see now! Boromir isn't lying, that's not  his way; but he hasn't  told  us everything. Something scared Mr.  Frodo  badly.  He screwed himself up  to the point,  sudden. He made up his mind  at last to go. Where to? Off East. Not without Sam? Yes, without even his Sam. That's hard, cruel hard.'      Sam passed his hand over  his eyes, brushing  away the  tears. 'Steady, Gamgee!  ' he said. `Think,  if you can!  He can't fly across rivers, and he can't  jump  waterfalls. He's got no gear. So he's  got  to get back to  the boats. Back to the boats! Back to the boats, Sam, like lightning! '      Sam turned and bolted back down the path. He fell and cut his knees. Up he  got and ran on.  He  came to the edge of the lawn of Parth Galen  by the shore, where the boats were  drawn up out  of the  water.  No one was there. There  seemed to be cries in  the woods behind, but he did not heed them. He stood gazing for a moment. stock-still, gaping.  A boat was sliding down the
  770. bank  all by itself.  With  a shout Sam raced  across  the  grass. The  boat slipped into the wat
  771.  
  772. 128d
  773.  
  774. er.      `Coming, Mr. Frodo!  Coming! ' called  Sam, and flung himself  from the bank, clutching at the departing boat. He missed it by a  yard. With  a  cry and a  splash he fell face  downward into deep swift water. Gurgling he went under, and the River closed over his curly head.      An exclamation of dismay came from the empty boat. A paddle swirled and the boat put about. Frodo was  just  in time to grasp Sam by  the hair as he came up, bubbling and struggling. Fear was staring in his round brown eyes.      `Up you come, Sam my lad! ' said Frodo. `Now take my hand! '      `Save me, Mr. Frodo! ' gasped Sam.  `I'm  drownded.  I can't  see  your hand.'      `Here it is. Don't  pinch, lad! I  won't  let you  go. Tread water  and don't flounder, or  you'll upset the boat. There now, get hold of  the side, and let me use the paddle! '      With a few strokes Frodo brought the boat back to the bank. and Sam was able to scramble out, wet  as a  water-rat.  Frodo  took off  the  Ring  and stepped ashore again.      `Of all the confounded nuisances you are the worst, Sam! ' he said.      'Oh, Mr. Frodo, that's hard! ' said Sam shivering. `That's hard, trying to  go without me and all. If I hadn't a guessed right, where  would you  be now? '      `Safely on my way.'      `Safely! ' said Sam. `All alone and without me to help you? I  couldn't have a borne it, it'd have been the death of me.'      'It would be the death of you to come  with me, Sam,' said  Frodo and I could not have borne that.'      `Not as certain as being left behind,' said Sam.      `But I am going to Mordor.'      `I know that well enough, Mr. Frodo. Of course  you are. And I'm coming with you.'      `Now, Sam,'  said Frodo, `don't  hinder me!  The  others will be coming back  at any  minute.  If  they  catch me here. I  shall have  to argue  and
  775. explain, and I shall never have  the heart  or  the chance to get off. But I must go at once. It's the only way.'      `Of course  it is,' answered  Sam.  'But not alone. I'm  coming too, or neither of us isn't going. I'll knock holes in all the boats first.'      Frodo actually laughed. A sudden warmth and gladness touched his heart. `Leave one! 'he said. `We'll need it. But you  can't come like  this without your gear or food or anything.'      'Just  hold on a moment, and  I'll  get my stuff!' cried  Sam  eagerly. 'It's all ready. I thought we should be off today.' He rushed to the camping place,  fished out  his pack from the pile where Frodo had laid it  when  he emptied the boat of his companions' goods grabbed a  spare blanket, and some extra packages of food, and ran back.      `So all my  plan is spoilt!  ' said Frodo.  `It is  no good  trying  to escape you. But I'm glad, Sam. I cannot tell you how glad. Come along! It is plain that we were meant to go together. We will go, and may the others find a safe road! Strider will look after them. I don't suppose we shall see them again.'      `Yet we may, Mr Frodo. We may,' said Sam.      So Frodo and Sam set off on the last stage of the Quest together. Frodo paddled away from the shore, and the River  bore them swiftly away. down the western arm, and past  the frowning cliffs  of Tol  Brandir. The roar of the great falls drew nearer. Even with such help  as Sam could give, it was hard work to pass across the current at the southward end of the island and drive the boat eastward towards the far shore.      At  length  they  came to land  again  upon the southern slopes of Amon Lhaw. There  they found a shelving shore, and they  drew the  boat out, high above the water,  and hid it as well  as  they could behind a great boulder. Then  shouldering their  burdens,  they set off, seeking a  path  that would bring them over  the grey hills of the Emyn Muil, and  down into the Land of Shadow.  
  776.      Here ends the first part of the history of the War of the Ring.      The second part is called THE TWO TOWERS, since the events recounted in it are dominated by ORTHANC,  the citadel  of  Saruman, and  the fortress of MINAS MORGUL  that guards the secret entrance  to Mordor;  it  tells  of the deeds and  perils of  all  the members of the now sundered fellowship, until the coming of the Great Darkness.      The  third part tells of the  last defence against the Shadow,  and the end of the mission of the Ring-bearer in THE RETURN OF THE KING.