Chapter 38. If a Thing is Worth Doing

Pippin, still watching the corridor for the approach of steaming water, jerked around at the sudden soft exclamation. Legolas!

‘Strider?’ he whispered.

But Elessar, upright, bent back to the silent figure on the bed, his brow furrowing in concentration as if he’d been interrupted in some important task.

***

It seemed forever that the three sat in silence, though in reality it must have been but minutes. At last Tolly spoke. ‘Get on your ponies. We must ride fast and far, if we are to come to the Bounds before the dawning.’

Ted gulped. Dawning. It was the traditional time for execution of common criminals.

Tolly heard the small sound; he put a hand on Ted's arm, firm and reassuring. ‘Nay,’ Tolly said. ‘We ride to your saving, and not to your destruction, at least, if it is at all possible.’ He rose abruptly, shuffling his feet through the area where the fire had been, making sure all the coals were out. It wouldn’t do to leave a fire burning unattended, and they must be on their way. There was no time to lose.

His ears caught the soft sound of the men moving to the ponies; when he joined them, he could see by moonlight that they’d brought the ends of the lead ropes round the ponies’ necks and back to the halters again, to make reins of a rough sort, and he nodded approval.

He mounted Wren, and the men mounted their own ponies, their legs hanging ridiculously long, but the ponies were sturdy beasts, if small, and would make good time even heavily burdened--and in truth, a man’s weight would be about the same as two hobbits riding together.

Suddenly confident, sure of his course, he kneed his pony into motion, and his two companions followed.

Through the night they rode, through the forest, winding their way between the great hills, the start of the Green Hill country, following the hunters’ trails that Tolly knew, ever southward, but not to the Rangers, no, not to the charnel wood. Desperate times call for desperate measures, but Tolly was something of a gambler at heart, and he thought he could beat the odds, with Wren’s help.

Down the Shire they rode, splashing across the Shirebourne at a low fording place, into the South Farthing. They galloped and trotted by turns across the fields, a ghostly parade, a short figure with two taller ones following, and if any hobbit, robbed of sleep, saw them he might have thought them ghosts of departed ruffians, from the time of the Troubles.

They rode their ponies hard, racing the Moon across the sky, for before he sought his bed, even, the Sun would be rubbing the sleep from her eyes and anyone seeing them would know them for what they truly were. An hour before the dawning, they’d gone some fifty miles, but Tolly’s heart leapt, for in the silvery half-light he saw they’d made good; they splashed their way across a small stream and he turned Wren’s head to follow the water to the southeast, towards the great but unseen Brandywine beyond.

Straight ahead as the crow flies, would be Sarn Ford, though only crows flew across this stretch of land. This part of the Bounds was avoided by travellers whether on legitimate business or not, and for good reason. Wren snorted and tossed his head in disgust.

‘It’s a bog!’ Ted said, riding up beside Tolly. ‘Tolly, you don’t mean...?’

‘I do,’ Tolly said, and grinned. He patted Wren’s neck. ‘This’un is a bog-pony, born and bred in the country round Needlehole, near the Rushock Bog. ‘Tis said his mam wandered too close to the bog, grazing, and he followed her in. A passing hobbit saw him, nearly up to his ears, and lucky for Wren he had a rope and was able to pull the baby colt out... They fostered him on goat’s milk, and while he grew to be smaller than most ponies, his heart was as great as any, and he has a nose for a bog...’

‘So we’ll go round, and he’ll keep us out of danger?’ Tod said from Tolly’s other side.

The hobbit laughed softly. ‘There are Bounders and Rangers to either side,’ he said, ‘but if our luck holds, there’ll be none in the bog itself. And aye, he’ll keep us out of danger, though I warrant he doesn’t care for the path.’

He pressed the pony with his knees, and Wren jogged in place for a moment or two, arguing with his rider, but at last Tolly had his way and the pony moved reluctantly forward. Tolly threw over his shoulder an urgent, ‘Keep right behind me; don’t stray a foot from the path we’re making. Do you know how Longbottom, to the west, got its name? They say there's no bottom to this particular piece of boggy ground...’

‘Aye,’ Ted said under his breath, motioning his younger brother to go before him. ‘You can lay a safe bet, I won’t stray.’ He opened the box to slip the necklace over his head, tucking it safely away under his shirt, and he crammed the bag of coins under his belt. The silver cup he grasped tightly in his hand for a moment, before buttoning it under his shirt beside the necklace, and he tucked the box under his arm again, for no good reason; he could have dropped by the way and let it sink into the bog, but then again, it might float, and draw a curious hobbit to his death.

The Sun rose upon them there in the bog, sparkling from the wet places. It was late in the year, but this far south the weather had remained mild, the flowering plants still bloomed bright, and there were still enough midges to be a nuisance and a bother. Tolly gave Wren his head, maintaining a loose rein, and let the pony pick his way, wandering in search of safe footing. He had full confidence in Wren, and it helped that the men rode pack ponies, used to following nose-to-tail, and not likely to step out of line, even when their leader stopped for long moments, sniffing at the ground before him and to either side.

In that flat country only the birds saw them; there was no vantage where someone could stand to overlook the marshes. So treacherous was that bog that the Rangers left it alone; any renegade man foolish enough to try to enter the Shire that way would find a terrible, lonely death. But the Rangers had not reckoned on a faithful, clever bog pony, or his determined rider.

It took much longer to cross the few miles of bog than the previous fifty of hill, wood and field. They stopped several times on islands of firm ground, to give Wren a long rest each time, and the going itself was very slow, and so it was the Sun had nearly finished her task for the day when at last they emerged onto solid ground.

Wren was trembling with weariness, and his flanks were soaked with sweat. Tolly dismounted and patted the lowered head. ‘Good lad,’ he said softly. ‘Good lad.’

‘And now?’ Ted said, slipping from his own mount’s back, and wincing a little as he regained his feet. The grass was soft, but his feet would be tender for a day or two more. There were likely still bramble thorns broken off beneath the skin, and he’d have to soak his feet, and have Tod try and extract as many of the slivers as he could. But that was a small enough matter, considering.

Tolly swept his arm to the south. ‘Sarn lies that way,’ he said. ‘You can cross the Brandywine there, buy some boots for yourselves, and make your way home to Bree.’

‘Bree’s not home,’ Ted said, ‘not for long, anyhow. We’re bound for Greenwood in the springtide, when the mountain passes are open again.’

‘And blessings on your journey,’ Tolly said, ‘and my best regards to your mother.’

‘Aye,’ Ted said, but his voice was suddenly husky, and though he swallowed hard he couldn’t say anything more for the moment. He made do by putting out a hand, and the hobbit grasped it, and they shared a long look.

Withdrawing his hand, Ted dug inside his shirt and brought out the old silver cup. He thrust it at Tolly. ‘Here,’ he said.

Tolly was taken aback. ‘What’s this?’ he said, and his Tookish temper stirred. ‘You don’t mean to offer me payment for what I’ve done!’

‘Not payment,’ Ted said, ‘though mercy knows we owe our lives to you.’

‘No more than I owe you,’ Tolly said, a stubborn glint in his eye. ‘So call us even.’

‘Not payment,’ Ted insisted. ‘Rather, something to remember us by.’

‘You think I’d forget you?’ Tolly said in astonishment.

‘Please,’ Ted said, ‘take it, for our mother’s sake. You can polish it up if you like, put it on your mantel, and remember the old days.’ And Tolly found himself taking the cup in hand, and tucking it away inside his own shirt, though he didn’t quite know why.

And then Tod spoke behind Tolly, and the hobbit turned to find the younger man on one knee, crouching a bit to see eye-to-eye. ‘We’re friends, then?’ Tod said, and one side of his mouth quirked as if he heard an echo of a childish voice. We’re friends again, are we not?

‘O Toddy,’ Tolly whispered, and a lump rose in his throat.

Tod threw his arms around the hobbit, and Tolly matched the embrace, his heart full, as he murmured, ‘Always.’

‘Though surely we don’t deserve such friendship,’ Ted said huskily, sinking to his own knees and shading his eyes as if from the quick-sinking sun. ‘What’ll they do to you if they find out, Tolly?’

‘Not as bad as they’d’ve done to you,’ Tolly said, and as Tod pulled back to gaze earnestly into his face in the old boyish way he shrugged. ‘Water rations, perhaps,’ he said, and cocked a thoughtful head. ‘A heavy fine, most likely. At worst the Thain will sack me, and I’ll end up following a plough on the land my father-in-love farms.’

Seeing the stricken look on his friends’ faces, he held out his hands to them. ‘We’ll always be friends, so long as the Green Hills are green.’

Taking Tolly’s right hand, Ted said, ‘Always! So long as the trees of the Greenwood are green, though we never meet again.’

Tolly took a steadying breath and said, ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that. After all, you lads are as much Shirefolk as I--why, Toddy was born in the Woody End... Perhaps when all is over you’ll find yourselves at the Feast in spite of it all...’

‘Save us a place, just in case,’ Ted said, with a hint of his old mischief.

‘I’ll say to the Master of the Feast, “O but you have to let them in, you cannot send them away to that gloomy place where Men sit and stew over their deeds, as Pip told me... why, we’ve been friends for ever!” ’

And Tod, taking hold of Tolly’s other hand, affirmed with a decided nod, ‘Always and forever!’ And he smiled through his tears.

‘For ever and a day,’ Ted whispered, remembering their last parting.

‘...and a fortnight into the bargain,’ Tolly said, and he squeezed their hands. ‘Now off with you! You’ve talked the Sun into her bed, and it’s a long way to walk to Sarn without boots on your feet! You’ll want to be far from the Bounds by the dawning!’

Tod nodded. ‘Come, Ted,’ he said, offering his shoulder.

Ted leaned upon his brother, but he had a last word for Tolly. ‘We’ll never forget you.’

‘See that you don’t!’ Tolly said.

The brothers walked up the long sloping ground, Tod helping Ted along, and Tolly stood a long time, holding the ponies, watching them until they passed out of his sight.

***

A/N: The bog mentioned here is not the Overbourne Marshes, but another bog lying outside the scope of the detailed Shire Map JRRT included in Fellowship of the Ring