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O The Fox Went Out on a Chilly Night  by Lindelea

Chapter 10. In which young hobbits find a questionable refuge, and the searchers jump to conclusions

Good hiding! Good hiding! Two little ones, barely out of faunthood... and a wood!

A wood in the middle of settled farmland...

And at least it was daylight, and the searchers were close...

Not close enough, from the sound of it!

It was dark in the little wood, dark and shadowy after the sunshine of the meadow, and the searchers’ voices came more faintly, and then not at all. Merry ran on, pulling Ferdi after him, until at last he saw a fine hiding place! ‘Twas a hollow log, the opening something of a tight fit for even such young and small hobbits, but they were very young and small after all, and somehow managed to squeeze through the opening. Happily the log widened, the further in they went, and soon they were able to turn themselves about and stare at the light peeping in at the entrance.

Merry never thought about whether it might be a burrow, habited by a wild creature, and a lucky thing for the two of them that it held neither rabbit nor stoat--the former likely to scare them out of their wits in that dark place, and the latter likely to attack them, possibly with dire consequences. The walls were rough, catching at their clothes, and the floor beneath them was coated in a blanket of decaying leaves, soft and dusty.

They listened for a long while, while their panting breath quietened and the trembling in their legs eased, only to shrink back at the echo of a great shout. The seeking calls resumed, at first louder and then fainter again, before dying away altogether.

Merry waited some time longer, just to be sure, and when little Ferdi whimpered at being in such a dark and confined place, the older cousin hushed the younger without mercy. At last, when light from the entrance began to dim, Ferdi’s whimpering rose to a wail, and Merry could not calm him.

‘Very well!’ he hissed. ‘We’ll go out, and surely on the other side of this wood we’ll find Michel Delving, and eventides!’ And he moved toward the dimming light, pulling the sobbing tot after him. ‘Hush!’ he kept saying, but his troublesome little cousin just would not hush. He could only hope that no searchers hovered nearby, to hear and sweep them up and off to Whittacres Farm once more.

***

But the searchers were nowhere nearby. As a matter of fact, just about the time the Sun was halfway between teatime and eventides, the searchers had entered the little meadow with its gurgling stream. The hired hobbit who found the little jacket beside the stream raised a great shout, bringing all at a run who had been searching within hearing distance. They had conferred and scattered, calling, some even venturing a little way under the trees before becoming discouraged by the dark and quiet under the trees. Surely young hobbits would have preferred sunshine to shadow!

After much calling and casting about, the first to reach a terrible conclusion sat himself down rather abruptly, his legs suddenly shaking with reaction and altogether too weak to hold him. There was a cry of alarm from another, nearby, who made his way to the side of his stricken companion, only to sink down himself at the muttered words he overheard. More were drawn in at this sight, a gathering crowd, turning away from their search, and there were added cries of dismay as speculation spread.

Swept away, and drowned!

Hobbits made their way downstream for nearly a mile before returning to report no sign of the young hobbits. By the time they returned with their grim news, the shadows were growing long, indeed. It was with heavy hearts that they turned their steps back towards Whittacres Farm, bearing the abandoned jacket, all that was left of the two wandering lads, to all appearances.

They’d have to search by torch and lantern-light, if they were to continue searching at all.

If they were to continue searching at all...!

Calm yourself, Pip; of course they’d continue searching! Why, Uncle Dinny would’ve spent the rest of his life, searching for his little son, apple of his eye, as Ferdi was (though I’ve no idea why, the little rotter...)

Some gratitude!

Gratitude! After what you did! Why, we’d’ve been found hours earlier if not for...

If not for your insistence on staying in that dark, dank hole until the light was dimming enough to scare your littler cousin half out of his wits!

Peace, Ferdi, or we shall never hear the end!

(Only half out of his wits? Only half! And as if to say he recovered them!)

Aye, peace, the both of you, and someone be so kind as to tell on! The moon is high, the fire is low, and we’ll be up all night at this rate...

Then throw another log on the fire!

Yes, my Lord King, at once.

There. That’s better. Pour Master Ferdibrand another cup of that good and heartening drink, there, and Master Merry another cup of his own. Surely storytelling is thirsty work, or so Bilbo often told me.

Yes, my Lord King... Here you are, Master Ferdi...

Thank you, Captain. Very kind, I’m sure. And thank you, my Lord. I can see why they made you King; very sensible and commanding as you are.

Yes, well, this sensible King very sensibly wishes to seek his pillow before the dawn comes stealing, and so he commands that you continue the story before the night grows any older.

Yes, my Lord King...

Enough of that! Get on with the story!

Really, Pip, I’d think you of all people would allow me to show some respect to the King--very well! Very well! Leave hold of my cup, I’ve barely had a sip! --and I’ll hush and let Merry, irritating and long-winded fellow that he might be, go on.

You’re calling me...!

(Shhh. Pot - kettle - black. Now do go on, and let Ferdi sip himself into some semblance of calm, or we'll never get through.)

(Well, when you put it that way...)

Now, Merry, get on with the story, do, if you please. You're keeping the King waiting, you know.

Yes, of course, Ferdi, for I'd never want to keep the King waiting...! Now, let me see...





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