Chapter 2. In which a Took has the best of intentions

‘We’ll have to dismount here,’ Ferdi said, ‘as I told you, Farry, and lead the ponies through here.’

‘When d’you suppose this rock-fall happened?’ Farry said, waiting while Ferdibrand dismounted. He was still young enough at ten years of age, that sitting atop a pony was high up in his estimation, and he welcomed the helping hand his uncle extended to help him down. Safely on the ground he was as adventurous as any other young hobbit, and he was as Tookish as any when it came to climbing trees, but ponies were perilous perches, to be sure. If they jigged when you jogged, so to speak, you might find yourself sitting on air. At least for a few seconds.

He’d been told that it takes three falls to become a real rider, and he still had two falls to go, and was not at all looking forward to them, at that. The first fall had been rather frightening, as a matter of fact. He’d been a very small child at the time, sitting on the back of his father’s stallion, being led to the stable. Unfortunately another stallion had broken free from its enclosure, and in the ensuing fight Farry had been thrown through the air, a very frightening moment for all concerned, especially his parents.

‘Well, Tolly told me about it, that you came through it on your way to Whittacres Farm last week...’

‘Yes, but it wasn’t there at the harvest celebration,’ Farry said. ‘Or Pearl or Isum would’ve mentioned it to Da, and he’d’ve sent road-workers out whilst the weather was still fine.’ He gave a shiver as his feet touched the icy mud. Hobbits go unshod, as a rule, but that doesn’t mean they take no notice at all of cold or wet.

His mare stood steady and stolid, awaiting developments. She was an older mare, a motherly sort, belonging to Ferdibrand, actually, and she was good friends with Farry. She’d come up from the pasture when she saw him standing at the fence, and he always had a treat for her. She’d been given to Ferdi when he’d come of age, ever so long before Farry was born, and yet Farry liked to pretend that Dapple belonged to him. Such a friendly, dependable creature, and when she was his mount he had the feeling that she’d never let him fall, sort of like that elven-horse his long-departed cousin Frodo had ridden in the stories his father told sometimes.

She had saved Ferdi’s life a time or two, back in the time of the Troubles, when Sharkey’s ruffians had ruled the Shire, all but the Tookland, and sometimes when Dapple came up to the fence to see him, Farry would take her by her long and shaggy forelock to turn her sideways, climb from the fence onto her back, and lie there as she wandered, cropping the grass, pretending that she was bearing him away from a ruffians’ trap.

Now Ferdi gave the mare an automatic caress, a rub under the jawbone, as he gathered her reins, to lead the two ponies through the straitened trail, and then he turned to eye the jumble of rocks. ‘Sometime after the harvest celebration, then. Perhaps the heavy rains at Yule? I know Pearl and Isum decided to take a waggon to the Great Smials, and go round the long way, through Waymoot and Bywater, rather than through the Green Hills on account of the mud being so treacherous in such weather.’ He eyed the hillside, adding, 'It's a mercy they didn't come this way, and get caught in the fall, perhaps.'

Dapple snorted and tossed her head at this, or perhaps it was because her foot slipped just then, as she was putting it down, and knocked against one of the great boulders that blocked part of the path, and Ferdi absently soothed her. ‘Steady, lass.’ He smiled then, because Farry had spoken the words at the same time, his little hand coming up to caress the old mare’s cheek as they picked their careful way.

Ferdi’s mount, Dapple’s daughter Penny as it happened, snorted in turn, twin plumes of steam on the frosty air.

‘Well, as the trail is not blocked, nor the stream,’ Ferdi said after consideration, filing away the details for the report he'd give the Thain upon arrival, ‘there’s no need to stir road-workers from their cosy smials until the weather improves a bit, I’d say. I’m sure your father would be in agreement. He’s a reasonable hobbit.’ Most of the time, he thought to himself. I’ truth, Pippin was only unreasonable when it came to the safety of his wife, and his son. Ah, but that was how Ferdi had run afoul of the hobbit, and he certainly had no intentions of repeating his mistake!

Penny planted her feet and stopped, bringing the entire party to a halt. ‘Come along, lass,’ Ferdi said with a gentle tug. ‘Stable and tea’s a-waiting ahead, don’t you know? We came through this fall as right as rain, yesterday eve, and just because the shadows are falling in the other direction this morning is no reason to take alarm.’

Dapple, however, was apparently more in agreement with her daughter than with Ferdibrand. She tossed her head once more and murmured something under her breath, so to speak.

Ferdi stood a little straighter, and he reached slowly to his back, out of force of long habit. Faramir’s eyes widened, seeing the gesture. ‘What is it?’ he whispered.

‘Likely naught,’ Ferdi said, pulling his bow from its resting place and stringing it in a quick motion. ‘Ponies don’t like change, you know. Many’s the time they’ve walked this track, so many they could likely do it in their sleep (likely have, some nights when there was an urgent message to go to Whitwell), and these boulders have them feeling a bit out o’ sorts.’

Still he took an arrow from his quiver and held it, casually, so that it would be the matter of a breath to notch and loose.

The foursome stood quietly, all breathing as one, listening to the soughing of the breeze and the subdued chuckle of the stream below.

‘Likely naught,’ Ferdi said again. ‘The Bounders know their job, and with those Ranger-fellows watching the Bounds as well, we’ve had no Men in the Shire to speak of in some months. And none of those came so far as the Green Hill country, as it were.’

Farry nodded. ‘Stray dogs would be barking, or baying if they were on a trail,’ he ventured. He patted Dapple, who would likely not be standing quite so still if wild dogs were at hand.

‘And wild swine would be lying quiet, at such a time as this,’ Ferdi said, ‘all nice and snug. They wouldn’t care for such a rocky place, anyhow.’ He cast an eye up the great hillside they were skirting, just in case another rock-fall was in the making. But no, all was still.

‘Likely naught,’ Ferdi said a third time, and clucked softly and reassuringly to the ponies, after handing the reins of both ponies over to Farry. At his nod, Farry gave a tug, and Dapple took a step. Penny stamped, and then deigned to follow, and once again they began to pick their careful way around the great boulders that littered the track.