CHAPTER 29

Freddy, Beri and Jolly were curled up, sound asleep when Borondir came in to wake Artamir for his watch.

Artamir got up as quietly as he could, picking up his helm and sword as carefully as he could, to avoid clinking, and slipped out of the tent. Borondir put his sword and helm down by his bedroll, and slipped into it as quietly as he could. In only a few moments, he was softly snoring.

“Hsst,” Dago elbowed Clovis.

Clovis nodded and sat up.

They carefully crawled to the edge of the tent. Awkwardly with their tied hands pushing the canvas up, they scooted on their backs beneath the tent wall.

Borondir turned over, and leaned up on one arm. His teeth gleamed in the darkness as he watched two pairs of furry feet vanish. With a soundless chuckle, he lay back down, and soon was snoring again, this time in earnest.

Once the two hobbits were outside, they crawled on elbows and knees around the side of the tent. They could see Artamir at the outer edge of the encampment, his back to the tents, as he peered alertly into the darkness beyond.

Near the banked campfire, they could see the form of the Dwarf, whose snores were quite loud. Next to the captain’s tent was the chest of cooking utensils and kitchen supplies.

“Now!” hissed Dago.

Clovis crawled over, and with as little noise as he could manage, lifted the lid. With a bit of difficulty, he was able to extract one of the cooking knives, which he thrust into the waistband of his breeches. He pulled out a sack and looked within: journeybread. Carrying it in his teeth, he crawled back over to where Dago waited. Then they cautiously crawled away from the camp and into a large tangle of shrubbery. There, with a good deal of trouble, and many whispered curses, they cut the ropes on their hands. Throwing them down with relief they were able now to move more freely. Still, they continued to crawl for a good distance, before they stood up and began to walk away from the campsite.

“We did it.” Clovis was exultant.

“We did. Now we just have to keep moving until morning. They won’t be able to send many searchers after us. If we can get far enough away, they’ll have to give up.”

Moving silently on hobbit feet, they made their way east towards the road.

Even if it had occurred to them to look up, they would not have seen anything.

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Gimli sat up. “They are gone, Master Artamir.”

The guardsman turned around. “And you are certain the Elf is following them? You do not think he will lose them?”

Gimli gave a sharp bark of laughter. “He *is* an Elf.”

“I’ll let the captains know, then.”

He went into the captain’s tent briefly, and then came back out to renew his watch. It seemed a bit cruel to him to allow the hobbits to think they had escaped, and to then dash their hopes. Still, those two had been so intractable. It seemed that to dash their hopes altogether would be the only way to make them give over their behavior.

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Cado lay next to his father, sleep eluding him. Knowing what his brother and Bracegirdle had planned, he found himself in two minds about it.

On the one hand, he found himself hoping that perhaps they would get away--not, he thought, because he wished them well, but because it would mean he was relieved of their company. In their weeks of travel, Clovis had become worse-tempered than ever. And Dago’s constant expressions of contempt for their father was tiring. If they got away, the journey would be a good deal more pleasant on that score at least.

On the other hand, he didn’t think the Men would be very happy at losing two of their prisoners--they were likely to be harder and more watchful after this. And truth be told, Cado didn’t want Clovis or Bracegirdle to escape whatever punishment awaited them when they reached their destination. Those two deserved to get a full share of whatever the Kings decided to dish out, and it would not be fair if they got away.

He glanced over at his father. How would his father stand up to the punishment? His health seemed to be getting worse the farther they went.

Finally, he flopped over on his side in frustration, and tried to put all thoughts out of his mind, and seek the oblivion of sleep.

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The two fugitives halted briefly at a small stream. They knelt down and drank deeply.

“How about we have some of this?” asked Clovis.

“We might need it worse later.” Dago sighed. “Maybe just a little bit.”

Clovis broke off a piece of the bread for each of them. It was tough, chewy and tasteless, but at least it would still the grumbling of an empty belly.

After a few moments, they got up, and followed the course of the stream until they came to the road. Looking carefully up and down the way, they darted across.

Dago and Clovis breathed a sigh of relief. They had made it into the woods on the other side of the Road. Perhaps they would get clean away after all. It would be hard for the captains to send anyone after them until the other two returned from their scouting expedition.

“Let’s get a bit further into the woods, and then find a spot to hole up in for the day,” said Dago. For from the position of the Moon, he thought morning could not be far off.

“That sounds like a good plan,” said Clovis.

They walked for about another half mile, and then found a hollow beneath the roots of a great oak. Exhausted, they fell into a deep slumber. They never noticed the tall figure as it came and leaned over them, and deftly extracted the sack of journeybread from Clovis’ limp hand.

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Freddy stirred and wakened, sat up, and rubbed his eyes. Berilac rolled over muttering “It can’t be morning already?” While Jolly stretched and ran a hand through his tousled curls.

Borondir was still snoring softly.

“Captain Freddy!” Jolly exclaimed. “Where’s *them* two got to?”

This brought the other two hobbits to full alertness. “They aren’t in here!”

“Borondir!” Freddy shook the guardsman. “Where are the prisoners?”

The Man sat up, and looked at them in brief confusion, and then gave them a wolfish grin. “Master Fredegar, they *think* they’ve escaped.”

“What do you mean?”

He chuckled. “You’ll need to get Captain Targon to explain it to you.”

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Freddy shook his head ruefully as he listened to the Captain’s explanation.

“Lord Legolas overheard their plotting, and told me of it. We discussed it for a bit. I wanted to confront them, and then tie them more securely. However, the Elf felt that if we gave them a bit of rope, he could keep track of them, and foil their escape. He thought that might take some of the wind out of them, and perhaps prevent future trouble. It seemed a good plan when he presented it. Do you have any doubts of his ability to bring them in whenever he chooses?”

Freddy thought for a few moments. He was a bit chagrinned that the Captain had not confided in him, but still, if Legolas was so confident, it might indeed prevent unpleasantness in the future.

“You say it is only the older son, and that *other* one?”

“Yes. According to Legolas, the younger son and the father wanted no part of it.”

It disturbed Freddy more than the other news did, the idea that Clovis would be willing to abandon his father and brother. If even the ties of family could not hold him, he was most definitely an unnatural hobbit.

“Well, I shall be interested in seeing what they have to say for themselves when Legolas brings them back.”

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The two hobbits wakened, confused at first at their surroundings. Then Clovis went to put his hand on the sack with the journey bread. It was gone!

“Dago! The food’s gone missing!”

The two stood up and looked about in confusion, then--there it lay, about four yards away. They darted over and picked it up.

“Naught but crumbs!” said Dago angrily. “An animal must have got to it!”

They looked at one another in alarm. They had not thought of wild animals when they slept, and had set no watch.

There was nothing for it but to trudge on with empty bellies. At one point they thought they spotted some mushrooms, but close inspection showed they were not an edible variety.

With sinking hearts, they continued on.

Dago tried to occupy the time by talking of what they would do when they reached populated lands.

“The first thing we do is find a needle artist that will disguise these tattoos.”

“How will we do that without coin?” asked Clovis.

“Haven’t you been listening to the stories? These Southerners love hobbits. They gave the Travellers anything they wanted without asking payment. And you are first cousin to Peregrin Took--that has to count for something! Once we’ve got that settled, we’ll be able to relax. As long as we keep away from the big City and the palace of Rohan, where they will have been warned about us, we should have no problems. We’ll just stay in the smaller villages and towns.”

“So it will finally be worth something to me to be related to Pippin. How that Took always manages to land in clover is beyond me. He’s so gullible. If it weren’t for that Brandybuck--” Clovis spat to one side, “Pippin wouldn’t know which way is up--”

Suddenly they felt rather than heard, something drop from the tree behind them. Whirling in fright, they found themselves staring into the face of a very angry Elf.