Chapter 1. Signs of Warning

King Elessar rides north, and dwells for a while by Lake Evendim.
He comes to the Brandywine Bridge, and there greets his friends.
He gives the Star of the Dunedain to Master Samwise,
and Elanor is made a maid of honour to Queen Arwen.
-- From the Tale of Years

S.R. 1436

Two Rangers of the North waited just outside the Bounds of the Shire. They did not have long to wait; soon a small party of mounted hobbits approached. One of the Rangers rose to his feet to meet them.

 ‘Hail, Master Took!’ he called. ‘We had your message from the Shirriff.’

The grey stallion danced beneath Ferdibrand, who was stiff with suspicion. Ranger, kinsman to the King or no, a Man it was who stood there, hand on his sword.

 ‘No need for that,’ Ferdi snapped. ‘He’s dead, already.’ He pulled at the lead rope of the following pony, urging the beast towards the waiting Ranger. The tall Man caught the trailing rope and halted the pony, while his companion rose quickly to examine the burden draped across its back.

 ‘Three shots,’ the second Ranger said.

 ‘He hurried us, rather,’ Ferdi said. ‘He’d taken a hobbit lad, in hopes of being led to the Thain’s treasure-hoard and out of the Shire again, safe.’

 ‘And the lad?’ the first Ranger asked.

 ‘Safe,’ Ferdi said shortly. Safe in body, at least. Frightened half out of his wits, and likely to have screaming nightmares for a time. The ruffian had made awful threats whilst the archers were moving out of his sight to his rear, to find the best vantage for shooting. Ferdi had stood firm, pretending fear and trembling compliance, promising to guide the Man to the gold, babbling like a fool to keep the Man’s attention until his archers could line up the shot.

Luck had been with them, for the lad had been so frightened, and the ruffian had squeezed him so menacingly, that the little hobbit began suddenly to retch and then to heave. The Man thrust him out at arm’s length to avoid the spatter, and Tolly had taken the first shot, quickly, before the Man could turn and pull the lad to himself again, a living shield. The Shirriff and the farmer had shot immediately after, and the ruffian fell. The farmer rushed forward to reclaim his son, examining him all over for injuries, weeping in relief.

Once they secured the ruffian with tight ropes and wrestled the body onto the pony, the Shirriff went pelting off as fast as his pony would go, to summon the King’s Men who patrolled outside the Bounds.

 ‘That’s the second since the New Year,’ Ferdi said now.

The Rangers nodded. They were used to Shire Reckoning and were careful, in their dealings with Shire-folk, to use the dates the hobbits used. ‘The Thain’s treasure-hoard, you said?’ the first Ranger asked.

Ferdi eyed him with dislike. ‘Aye,’ he snapped. ‘Seems as if news of the gold has gone beyond the Bounds.’

 ‘We’ve heard of it,’ the second Ranger said. ‘We’ve heard how he sent two waggons of food and fuel to a woodcutter’s family, to see them through the winter after he broke his leg.’

 ‘And the waggons of supplies and relief to the farmers of the Greentuck Valley after the disastrous flooding,’ the first Ranger said. ‘Why, the news has travelled all the way to Sarn, and to Bree in the East, how the Thain watches over the Shire-folk as if they were the sheep of his pasture.’ For of course, the hobbits living within the Bounds sometimes met those who lived Outside to exchange news and trade goods. ‘He doesn’t sit on his hoard but sows the gold and reaps blessing.’

 ‘Aye,’ Ferdi said, slightly mollified by the Men’s obvious respect, but still suspicious. ‘And so Men have decided he has gold to spare, and have begun to seek it.’

 ‘We will double our watch,’ the second Ranger said.

 ‘You do that,’ Ferdi said. ‘At least we haven’t seen the first band back again.’

The Rangers exchanged glances, and he stiffened again. ‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘What is it that we do not know?’

The hobbits resented being treated as children, the Rangers knew. Elessar had stressed this point, in years past, when he was Chief of the Rangers and his being King was only the glimmer of a dream by moonlight. There was certain knowledge that the Counsellors of the North-kingdom wanted suppressed...

 ‘You are the Fox,’ the second Ranger said slowly. ‘Are you not?’

 ‘So I have been called,’ Ferdi said, wondering at the change of subject.

The Rangers exchanged glances once more, and Ferdi worked to keep as tight a rein on his temper as he did the grey stallion.

 ‘A private word, if I may,’ the second Ranger said, lowering his voice, and Ferdi waved the other hobbits back at once. Pippin had emphasised the honour of the Rangers of the North; he had nothing to fear from these Men, and he was curious to know what the old name from the time of the Troubles, when Sharkey ruled the Shire, had to do with the new crop of ruffians springing up.

The first Ranger went about the business of pulling the body from the pony’s back, talking quietly with the other hobbits while the second Ranger spoke with their leader.

 ‘They violated the King’s edict,’ the second Ranger said, low.

 ‘I was aware of that,’ Ferdi replied dryly. ‘It’s why we captured them and delivered them into the hands of the King’s Men, after all, instead of driving them before us with a few well-placed shots.’

 ‘The penalty for entering the Shire is hanging,’ the Ranger said, lowering his voice still more. The Counsellors did not want common hobbits to hear of such things; knowledge of the cruelties of Men was slowly fading as the Troubles receded into the past, and hobbits were once again becoming the simple, quiet-living folk they had been before the War of the Ring. All but a few, that is, who maintained their vigilance against danger, troubling themselves to keep the greater number innocent and untouched by evil.

This hobbit before him, with the faded scars under his chin, knew what hanging was. The ruffians under Sharkey had hanged troublemaking hobbits, towards the end of Sharkey’s sway, and he’d been one of the lucky few to be rescued from the end of a rope.

 ‘Hanging,’ the hobbit gritted, his face bleak.

What else would you expect us to do with them, keep them in our pockets? the Ranger wanted to ask, but he knew the hobbits were a peaceful lot, reluctant to take life even at need.

Ferdi nodded abruptly, snapped out, 'Thain’s thanks to you,' and wheeled his pony about, calling to the other hobbits to follow, leaving the second Ranger staring after them.

The first Ranger grunted from under his burden, ‘So what do you want to do with this one?’

 ‘Hang him up with the rest,’ came the answer. ‘They might yet serve as a warning to Men to stay out of the Shire.’