Chapter 59. Time flies...

‘We’ve reached Bree already?’ Tolly said as twinkling lights came into view ahead, and Legolas informed him that they would soon reach their destination. The Wood Elf had pulled his hood over his head once more, disguising his Otherness for the most part. He could not as easily disguise the grace that infused every movement, nor the music in his voice when he spoke.

Tolly’s fellow messenger laughed and said, ‘How quickly the time passes when there are stories to be told and a good road to speed the journey!’

The Took shook his head in wonder. He could clearly remember stopping overnight at an outpost of Kingsmen, detailed there to carry messages for the King (urgent messages travelled in relay, changing horses every ten miles or so and messengers every hundred miles), as well as patrol the East–West Road between Buckland and Bree. Away from the Road, the northern Rangers continued to guard the country around the Breeland as they had for centuries. They had supped and breakfasted well, despite the “plain fare” that Legolas had predicted, and set out again, riding through the day, stopping to water their beasts along the way and sharing the travel rations that both of them carried. (Though Tolly had to admit that the Elf’s “travel rations” scarcely fit the term. Rather, he was reminded of his cousin’s description of bread surpassing the savour of a fair white loaf to one who is starving, along with fruits sweet as wildberries and richer than the tended fruits of gardens. Legolas reinforced this impression by sharing his drinking flask which was filled with a fragrant draught, cool as a clear fountain and as golden as a summer afternoon.)

But even with the certain knowledge that they had travelled for more than a day, it felt to him as if they had set out from the Bridge only that evening. Perhaps some Elf-magic was at work. In any event, his reply was completely truthful. ‘It seems as if hardly any time has passed at all!’ He stretched in the saddle, though there was hardly any need to do so. Hours of long riding usually left him stiff, yet he felt as fresh as if he’d mounted but half an hour earlier. He added, ‘I certainly hope the beer at The Pony lives up to its reputation!’

‘We shall certainly have to make a thorough investigation of the matter!’ Legolas returned merrily.

Before them rose the Bree-hill, a dark mass against misty stars; and under its western flank nestled a large village. As they drew closer to the town, Tolly could make out round windows shining out from the hillside – hobbit holes, he guessed – situated somewhat higher on the hill than the oddly rectangular squares of light that signalled the abodes of Men.

The sound of their passage changed from solid thuds to a hollow clopping, causing Tolly to sit up straighter in surprise. ‘We are riding over the causeway,’ Legolas explained, and Tolly remembered the Elf’s description of a deep dike and tall hedge protecting the town. Looking to the side, he saw only darkness that deepened as he tried in vain to pierce the depths to either side. And then the West-gate loomed ahead, dark against the lights of the town it guarded. Beyond the gate, Tolly could see the gatekeeper’s lodge and, sitting in the doorway, a shadowy figure whose face was suddenly illuminated with a dim reddish glow and then was shadowed again. Though the sight initially startled him, Tolly soon realised that the Man was smoking a pipe, and this homely thought steadied his nerves.

Legolas had advised Tolly to speak for them both, lest he be recognised as one of the Fair Folk, thus drawing unwanted attention. Accordingly, the head of escort called ‘Halloo!’ and saw the figure in front of the lodge jump to his feet. Soon the Man was at the gate, holding a lantern high to cast its light upon the travellers.

‘What do you want, and where do you come from?’ he called cheerfully. Tolly was momentarily surprised as he had been expecting a surly or, at best, gruff greeting from the stories the Thain had told about his experiences with the Gate-keepers at the West-gate and South-gate of Bree.

He gave the answer Pippin had instructed him to use if they came to Bree after the gates had been closed for the night. ‘Travellers from Buckland!’ In one sense it was true; they had indeed just come from Buckland.

‘You’re a bit belated,’ the Gate-keeper said, unlocking the gate.

‘Nothing that a pint and a hot meal and a comfortable bed won’t remedy,’ Tolly said lightly. ‘I’m eager to discover whether The Pony’s beer is as good as they say it is!’

‘Well you’re in luck,’ the Man answered, swinging the gate wide. ‘For a wizard laid a seven-year blessing of excellence upon Barliman’s beer quite a while back, and he forgot to take it off again!’ He laughed, and Tolly joined him in laughing as the travellers rode through the open gateway, after which the Man swung the gate shut with a clang and locked it again.

The riders paused, and Tolly thanked him.

‘It’s no bother!’ the Man said. ‘I don’t know why we even fuss with Gates these days, but then, I suppose it’s simply sound practice to be ready for trouble.’

‘I find one can go without Trouble for months at a stretch,’ Tolly said, ‘but when a problem pops up, it’s not likely to give advance notice!’

The Gate-keeper roared with laughter at that and slapped his knee with his free hand, then pointed the stem of his pipe at Tolly and said, ‘That’s a good’un! I’ll have to remember that one.’

‘Thank you again,’ Tolly said, and they rode on up a gentle slope and past some detached houses that looked large and strange to Tolly, who’d not yet accompanied the Thain to New Annúminas, unlike his younger brother Hilly, and seen the dwellings of Man at close proximity. When they came to the inn, they saw welcoming light shining from many of the windows on the inn’s three floors. Light also streamed out of the large doorway, for the door was open to admit the sweet, blossom-scented air of the mild spring evening. Talk and laughter spilled out, and mingling with the floral fragrance from the night-blooming bushes fronting the inn was the smell of well-seasoned savoury food and baking bread.

The travellers dismounted and led their beasts through the archway into the courtyard. There, Tolly gave his reins to his companion, climbed up the low but broad steps, suited to both Men and Hobbits, and walked into the inn. As he entered, he nearly collided with a server carrying a tray, and thought himself for a moment thrust into the middle of one of Master Merry’s or Thain Peregrin’s stories. However, the server, seemingly recognising Tolly as a stranger, raised his voice, calling for Mr Butterbur, and soon a short, fat man with a red face came out of the smoky, crowded common room. The lamplight shone from his bald head, and Tolly recognised him from his cousins’ descriptions as Barliman Butterbur himself.

‘Good evening, little master!’ he greeted Tolly, bending down to speak face to face. ‘What may you be wanting?’

‘Good evening, Mr Butterbur,’ Tolly said in return. ‘We are travellers from Buckland and would like a room with beds suited for a Man and a Hobbit, and dinner in a quiet room, if that would not put you out too much, as well as a pitcher of your excellent beer!’

Good Barliman didn’t blink at the thought of a Man and a Hobbit travelling together from Buckland, but then, the King had established a guard-post near the Bridge, making it plausible that a Kingsman might be accompanying a Bucklander. And to the innkeeper’s mind, his excellent beer was reason enough for folk to come from far and wide to his establishment. Bless old Gandalf, wherever he may have gone was a thought that often crossed his mind, as it did in this moment.

‘We’ve rooms in the north wing on the ground floor that were made special for hobbits, though the ceilings were built high enough for a Man; we can move one of the large beds into your room. Will that suit?’ 

‘That will suit quite well,’ Tolly said easily. Behind him, he saw his companion enter, still cloaked and hooded. ‘The animals are put away?’ he said, quite as if he were in charge of the party, and received a nod in answer. ‘Very well then, Mr Butterbur,’ he said, turning back to the innkeeper. ‘And then dinner?’ He rubbed his hands together with a gusty sigh. ‘Something smells absolutely delicious!’

‘Indeed, sir and sir,’ (this last to the tall, anonymous guest), ‘please follow me!’ He showed them to a small parlour where a cheerful fire was burning on the hearth despite the mild evening temperatures. The comfortable low chairs drawn up to the hearth were more suited to hobbits, but Legolas moved silently to the hearth, pushed one of the chairs aside, and settled himself easily on the floor before the fire.

‘Well then...’ Mr Butterbur said uncertainly, and then he caught his balance once more and bowed. ‘I hope you’ll be quite comfortable! I’ll be sending your supper and beer to you here, and you may relax whilst we ready your room!’

What with the attentive service, delicious food served in hearty portions, and beer (which the two messengers also judged to be as excellent as described), followed by the promise of a sound sleep in a soft, comfortable bed, Tolly decided that the wilds of the Outlands were perhaps more civilised than he’d thought, and the Outsiders themselves seemed to be pleasant folk and not all that different from Tooks and Tooklanders. At least, that was the fruit of his experiences in Tolly’s estimation.

Of course, Tolly was something of an exception amongst Shire-folk, in general, and Tooklanders, in particular, having experienced friendship with a family of Men starting from the time he’d still been an impressionable tween. When he’d rescued little Toddy from the cold and fog, he’d been the same age as the Thain himself had been when Pippin had travelled to the South-lands and forged friendships with Men and Elves alike.

Come to think on it, Tolly mused sleepily to himself, his experience in dealing with Men might well be the reason the Thain had selected him to perform this particular special commission.

As he was to find out later, he was righter than he realised.

*** 

Author’s note: Some phrasing (including the better part of an entire sentence) drawn from “Three Is Company”, “Fog on the Barrow-downs” and “At the Sign of the Prancing Pony” in The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien.

***