Chapter 12

Merry and Sam returned to camp just as Frodo and Pippin returned from their own venture. Pippin was happily munching on various berries and edible roots they had found. He was also dragging behind him the walking sticks he and Merry had inadvertently left behind the night before. Frodo followed close behind, carefully cradling eight robin eggs in his shirt.

“Look what we found,” Pippin announced as he and Frodo unburdened themselves of their loads. Pippin then disappeared into the tent while Merry prepared a small fire and Sam made another poultice with the berries and dirt.

“I hope these eggs are edible,” Frodo said after he arranged the walking sticks and sat down next to the fire pit. “If they aren’t, we’ll have to return them to their nests and beg their mothers for forgiveness.”

Sam looked them over and nodded his approval before handing them back. Pippin came back then with his arms loaded with the breakfast food. He put the food down carefully and took the eggs from Frodo. Merry appointed himself the job of dicing up the onion and the last of the other vegetables and Pippin cracked the eggs into a bowl and started stirring them.

“And you two found everything I take it?” Frodo asked Merry and Sam. Pippin looked up from his stirring and waited for the answer.

“We did,” Merry assured. “Thank you, both of you.”

“You’re more than welcome Merry-dear,” Pippin said generously and went back to whipping the eggs. “Now let’s hurry up and cook this food. I’m hungry.”

“You are? I would never have guessed,” Merry teased fondly.  

Breakfast was soon eaten, and once Merry and Pippin’s wasp stings were seen to, they all made quick work of breaking camp. They buried the fire pit last and checked the immediate area to ensure they left nothing behind. By nine o’clock, they were on the road, bearing their loads with ease despite the already-increasing heat of the day.

They had decided to continue traveling in the direction they had been going. Merry and Pippin wished to see the rest of the trail, and Frodo saw no reason to deny them, as it really didn’t matter which way they went from this point. They were looking at a thirty-mile hike either way, and at least going west, they would be closer to Needlehole and help should Merry or Pippin suddenly take ill.

They soon came upon the hedge Merry and Pippin had found the day before, and they discovered that it extended due north for two miles before following the long, sharp northern curve of the path. This topmost part of the path was fairly close to the edge of the woods, and they could see the fields of the Northfarthing stretching outward invitingly beyond the last line of trees. The breeze here was swift and refreshing, cool and much welcomed after the previous three days spent wishing for its presence. The hobbits rejoiced in it and found it difficult to follow the path as it dipped south again, back into the stifling heart of the forest.

Yet follow it they did, and they found the path here to be uneven and rough. They kept their footing easily enough, and the path was wide enough that they could walk two abreast, Frodo and Merry in front, and Sam and Pippin behind. Pippin kicked absently at the many leaves and twigs that littered the ground, and every now and then he attempted to jump up and bat at a low-hanging branch.

After a mile of marching south, they came at last to the end of the hedge. Merry paused to look up at it critically and the others stopped to join him. The hedge was wild and uneven in its growth, thicker here, thinner there, but it was still taller than all the other bushes they had seen thus far. It reached a height of eight feet at least, and they could see now that it was a double hedge – two rows of perfectly spaced hawthorn, interweaving through the countless years to form one impenetrable barrier.

“Someone planted that,” Sam said.

“I wonder why,” Merry mused.

Frodo shrugged. “I am uncertain why anyone would plant such a wall here. Do you have any ideas, Sam?”

Sam shook his head and examined the hedge closer. Whoever had planted this wall, no one had tended it for many long years, long enough that the reason for it being here had been forgotten by all. If he had to venture a guess… “Mayhap it was built to block the wind on cold nights.”

“They could have picked something nicer to plant then,” Pippin pointed out. “And why would anyone need a wall here? Did folk back then camp here more than they do now? Did folk used to live here?”

Frodo laughed and started the march again. “I don’t know, Pip, but when we get back to Bag End, you can dig through all of Bilbo’s old books and see if any of them mention the hedge if you want.”

Pippin scrunched his nose up at this. Study? When he didn’t have to? “That’s all right, I’ll just make up my own story.”

“This should be good,” Merry said, but Pippin apparently didn’t feel like making the story up just then and the easy silence between them returned.

They paused only once that morning, so Sam could administer more of the poultice. He also checked Pippin’s hand again and was pleased that the cut was a more natural color now. When Pippin wasn’t able to get at it, he managed to refrain from scratching it and therefore aggravating it. It was now scabbed over as it should be, and he saw no sign of infection, but Sam thought the healer should take a look at it anyway once they returned to Bag End.

The sun was nearing its high point and the heat reached its unforgiving peak. The travelers kept to the shade as best they could, which was easy enough to do. The trees here were a mixture of elm, maple and fig, and they provided much cover from the sun. An occasional gust of wind made its way down to them and they drank deeply from their water skins. Various birds could be heard singing all about them: robins, finches, larks, blue jays, magpies and sparrow hawks. Sam knew a few of the birdcalls and imitated them perfectly to the delight of his companions, even managing to bring some of the birds down from the trees to answer his calls.

There was no need for a fire for the luncheon meal, and really no need for them to stop other than the need for rest. Merry and Pippin happily shrugged off their packs and rested against a tree, eating their food in slow, appreciative bites. Frodo relaxed also, pleased with the progress they had made so far. They had already traveled a good nine miles and if they kept up at this pace, they would be home by suppertime.

As soon as they were finished eating, Frodo beckoned them to their feet. They walked in silence for a time, but then Merry sighed dramatically and said aloofly, “I have a story.”

“Oh?” Frodo asked, and Pippin perked up enthusiastically.

“Yes indeed. It took me awhile, but I finally remembered an embarrassing story about you Frodo,” Merry continued and grinned impishly. “About you and a certain Posy Goold, at my twelfth birthday party. That would have made you… twenty-six?”

Even from behind him, Sam could see the flush working its way up Frodo’s neck to his face. “Twenty-five. And how would you know about any of that?” Frodo asked.

“Folk talk, Frodo,” Merry replied unrepentantly.

“What happened?” Pippin asked excitedly. He never heard embarrassing stories about Frodo and this one sounded good.

“Well, there was a certain amount of begging, and a certain amount of pleading, and great deal of kissing, but necessarily in that order. And if that wasn’t enough…” and here Merry paused and winked devilishly at Frodo. “No. No, I don’t think I should say anything about it. It wouldn’t be proper to speak of a lass when she isn’t here to defend herself.”

Frodo snorted at this. “She’s hardly the one that needed defending, as I recall. I’ll never forgive Esmeralda for setting me up with her.”

“Come on, Merry,” Pippin begged. “What happened? Tell me.”

Merry shook his head, to disguise his shaking shoulders. He repressed his laughter with difficulty. “No, now that I think of it, there’s really nothing to tell. I think I’ll just keep it to myself.”

“That’s not fair,” Pippin said, catching on now what Merry was up to. Merry wasn’t going to get information out of him that way, and especially not with Sam right there. Only now he needed something else to talk about to keep his mind off this tantalizing mystery. His searched quickly for another topic, and there was only one thing he could think of. “So Sam, what do you think your sisters are doing right now? It’s midday, so that means they’ll be preparing dinner and afters. Maybe baking cupcakes, or apple tarts, or cinnamon rolls. I love those. Or at least, I think I would, if I were ever allowed to have one. Do you think it’s right, Sam, for a hobbit to reach my age and never have had a cinnamon roll?”

“That’s the most improper thing I ever heard,” Sam said sympathetically.

“That’s what I keep telling Mum, but she won’t listen to me.”

“Well, I don’t know about cinnamon rolls, but Daisy does make a good batch of cream-filled pastry balls. They’re more or less the same,” Sam said. “And Carmen – that’s Hamson’s wife – she bakes a cheesecake that near melts in your mouth, and no mistake.”

“Indeed. I would have hoarded the one she baked for the Fair’s baking contest,” Frodo said.

Sam chuckled. “Had you tried, sir, you’d have found yourself buried in hobbits all eager to do the same.”

“Did any of your sisters ever make chocolate truffles?” Pippin asked. “I love chocolate, you know.” He looked up at Sam hopefully.

Sam shook his head regrettably. “Nay, I’m afraid not sir, but they’re easy enough to make.”

“Pippin,” Merry finally admonished, “why are you tormenting yourself like this? You know you can’t have any of those things.”

“Tell me about Posy Goold then,” Pippin demanded.

“No, it’s a secret,” Merry replied coolly.

“How about we speak of something else,” Frodo suggested, easily interrupting the argument before it could begin. “I’ve been thinking of taking another hiking trip after Harvest. I thought we would all go up to the Brockenborings and the Hills of Scary and explore around there. What do you say?”

Frodo didn’t know what amused him most: the immediate, panicked silence that followed his announcement, or hearing his cousins fumbling for excuses why they couldn’t go. They would love to go of course, only Merry had his studies, and Eglantine’s birthday was during that time and Pippin couldn’t possibly miss that. Frodo already knew Sam’s excuses of course and he just shook his head at his friends.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “After the fuss you all made about coming with me on this trip, I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to go on another.”

“Oh, it’s not that,” Pippin said. “It’s just, after Harvest? Wouldn’t it be better to go before the end of the harvests, after your birthday? Then we could just travel from Bag End to Buckland, since we’ll be spending the time there for Harvest anyhow.”

“There’s only a week between my birthday and the end of the harvests, which wouldn’t give us much time. It would be better to go after the celebrations. That way, Sam would be able to come as well. And as for Buckland, I was actually thinking of inviting you to stay in Hobbiton this year,” Frodo explained, which was met only by more silence.

Finally Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, I don’t reckon I’ll be able to go after Harvest either. Gaffer’s joints get to aching him round that time and Marigold couldn’t handle him on her own, not with all as she’s got to be doing.”

Frodo could only laugh. “Well isn’t this a turn of events. Now I’m begging all of you to come along and you’re looking for excuses not to,” Frodo teased and his friends at least had the good sense to look abashed.

They soon came to a sharp, ninety-degree turn where the path suddenly began running due east, back into the very heart of the forest. Frodo and Sam automatically began to follow it, but Merry paused, causing Pippin to stall between them. Merry knew where they were from the maps, and he looked up beyond the vacant glade that rested beyond the edge of the path. Sure enough, not even a quarter of a mile away, on the other side of the glade, he could see where the path curved back out and continued south again.

“Wouldn’t it be faster just to cut across?” Merry asked, getting Frodo’s attention. Frodo and Sam stopped and came back to join Merry and Pippin in assessing the situation.

“I don’t remember this,” Frodo said simply and frowned at the glade. He didn’t know why, but something about it left him uneasy. “I think we should follow the path.”

“But we can save half a mile easily,” Merry said. “The path just goes in and comes back out to here anyway.”

“Short cuts make long delays,” Pippin quoted.

“Your father isn’t always right, you know,” Merry replied.

“I know, but try telling him that,” Pippin said and waited for Frodo to come to a decision.

Frodo just shook his head. Bilbo had always said to stay on the paths, no matter what, and he remembered Sam saying that Robin and the Shirriffs had stuck to the paths as well when they came through last year. Yet cutting across would save them a bit of time, and the sooner they were home the better. Still, something about the glade was off-putting and Frodo hesitated to enter it.

Sam stood next to his master and examined the land critically. He too noticed that there was something odd about this glade and it took only a few seconds for his gardener’s eye to figure out what. “There’s naught growing here,” he commented. He stood restlessly on the edge of the path and did not step over the boundary.

“It’s a glade,” Merry reasoned. “Nothing’s supposed to grow here. It’s just like the one where we camped the first night.”

Sam shook his head warily. “It ain’t at that. Glades’ve got grass at least. There’s no grass here. Not even weeds, or leaves or twigs from the trees. There’s nothing.”

The cousins realized with a start that Sam was indeed correct. The glade was completely devoid of twigs, leaves, even rocks. No grass, flowers, thistles or thorn bushes grew anywhere within it. There was only dirt, smooth and flat, without a dip or a bump.

The hobbits didn’t know what to make of this puzzle. Finally, Merry bent down and picked up the largest rock he could find. He tested its weight, figured it to be about five pounds, and threw it into the clearing. They waited for several long minutes during which the rock sat serenely on the ground. Then, within the space of a blink, the rock was gone. The four companions gasped.

“The hobbit-devouring bog,” Pippin whispered, entranced. He remembered the whistling he had heard over the last few nights and suddenly knew Sam’s tale to be true. “Nodi must have been walking at night and didn’t notice the path change direction. He walked right into it and didn’t know it.”

“Why at night?” Frodo asked, at the same time Merry said, “They should have planted that hedge here.”

Still intrigued, Merry ventured forward cautiously, tapping the ground well before him with his walking stick. “Be careful,” Frodo warned, and Merry nodded. For ten feet or so, he found the ground to be perfectly solid. Then he took another small step and prodded the ground again. This time, his stick met slushy sand and sank through the ground. He pushed the stick back and forth through the soupy substance, then pulled the stick back out and carefully returned to his friends. Once safely back on the path, they examined his walking stick, now covered in watery dirt.

“It’s true then,” Sam said, equally as amazed as the others. Then he shuddered and started determinedly down the path. The others followed without another word, but they all kept wary eyes on the ominous clearing, their walking sticks well ahead of them. They did not breathe easily again until they reached the other side of the bog and were leaving it behind.

“We’ll have to tell everyone the stories are true,” Pippin stated. He didn’t want any other unsuspecting souls wandering into the bog. “It’s a good thing Merry sent those wasps after us then.”

“How’s that?” Frodo and Merry asked at the same time, and Sam looked at him questioningly.

“Because, if we had gone hiking last night, we might have decided to camp in that glade,” Pippin explained. “Sam wouldn’t have been able to notice anything odd about it in the dark.”

They absorbed this in shocked silence, stunned by how correct Pippin was. If they had come upon that glade at night, they wouldn’t have thought twice about camping there. They would have set up camp immediately, or at least attempted to. By the time they would have noticed anything amiss, it very well may have been too late. They shuddered at the thought.

“If that isn’t a first,” Frodo finally said lightly. “One of your mishaps seems to have actually prevented an even worse one.”

“You may thank me later, my dear Frodo,” Merry teased back. “I’ll expect to bathe first of course, and I wouldn’t mind a mug of ale served to me as I soak my weary bones. I’ll also expect an ample and completely satisfying dinner to be waiting for me by the time I finish.”

“You’ll have to pull another miracle out of the air for that to happen,” Frodo said. “The only thing I’m doing when we get back is fetching the healer for you two. Then we’ll go through the pantries and scrape something together for dinner.”

“You’ll eat with us won’t you, Sam?” Pippin asked cheerily.

“I’ve things to see to once I get home, sir,” Sam said regrettably. “I might be late to work in the morning as well, Mr. Frodo, if you don’t mind.”

“No of course not. You take care of whatever you need to, Sam, and come to work when you’re able,” Frodo said.

“But then what will you eat?” Pippin asked with concern.

Sam smiled and winked at the young hobbit. “I’ll grab something out of the larder while I’m checking the stores. Don’t you worry about me, Master Pippin. But how much longer will you and Mr. Merry be staying?”

“Until Sterday,” Pippin answered.

“Sterday?” Frodo asked. “You mean I have another four days to put up with you all?”

“We could stay longer if you like,” Merry offered with a grin.

“Only if you come hiking with me again,” Frodo countered.

“Oh Frodo, you know we will,” Merry said. “We’ll work something out.”

With that promise between them, they continued forward in tranquil silence. Three miles south of the bog, a second smaller path cut across the one they were currently traveling upon. Frodo steered them onto this new path and as he had promised Sam at the beginning of their trip, it brought them out of Bindbole Wood a mile from where they had entered.

They stood at the edge of the forest, blinking at the fields and the nearby slopes of Overhill. The grass was crisp and lush, sprinkled with dandelions, daffodils, daisies and posies. The deep blue sky above was cloudless, the sun shining brilliantly, the wind blowing in gentle, warm gusts. The land stretched out serenely before them, in such sharp contrast to the forest, they felt as though they were stepping out of another world, returning home after an unexpected adventure.

They took a moment to breathe in the open air and appreciate the view before them. Then they stepped off the path and left the forest behind them.
 
 
 

To be continued…