Chapter 12. Progress

Estella woke suddenly, feeling cramped, as if she’d slept an entire night without moving, curled into a ball. She stretched, or tried to, finding her movements restricted, her feet fetching up against a rough surface though her knees were still bent. She ached all over, most especially her legs, and she reached down to rub at a cramp in the calf of one of her legs, and with her other hand she threw off her covering. Memory came in a rush, then – she saw that she lay within a confined space, dim light revealing rough walls of decaying wood that surrounded her on all sides. She was inside the hollow trunk of a still-standing tree! Her covering had been Ferdi’s cloak, she discovered, and under her was a bed of dry leaves.

Ferdi, himself, was a warm spot against her hip. He was sitting up, eating some of Rosemary’s good bread smeared with fresh goats-milk cheese. He nodded in greeting and pointed to her pack – which she suddenly realised had been on her back when she fell asleep, and now served as a pillow of sorts, though she didn’t remember the transition. Ferdi’s doing, she gathered. Her stomach grumbled then, and she sat up – there was just enough room for the two of them to sit a little apart – and dug in her pack for her own portion of food, wrapped in a flour-sack cloth. It didn’t take long to devour one day’s ration, though she picked crumbs off the cloth until it was clean, and used it to wrap another portion, as Ferdi had instructed her before they’d left the Bolgers’. ‘They may not be able to tell how many days you’ve travelled, if you re-wrap the cloths each time you use one.’ It was all in defence of his sister and her family – that any ruffians who caught them and searched their possessions would not be able to tell how many days they had travelled from where they’d found their supply of travel rations.

Dim light filtered through an opening stuffed full of old leaves and bracken fronds, and she realised that outside their refuge, it was full daylight.

…which presented certain problems in itself. She was becoming aware of growing discomfort, but without any idea of how to deal with it. She shifted uncomfortably – she’d have to do something, as they still had five days or so of travel ahead of them, and she certainly could not wait until they reached the safety of the Tookland…

Before she had given much thought to how to frame the question, Ferdi seemed to divine her need. ‘Quiet,’ he whispered, and she looked at him in surprise, for she hadn’t said anything, or even moved, really, since finishing her meal. He nodded towards the entrance. ‘Quiet, out-of-the-way place,’ he clarified. ‘I’ll unblock the entrance and look out, though I haven’t heard anyone or anything – and believe me, I’ve been listening – and you may go and find a bit of cover, scratch a hole with a stick, do what you need to do…’ He was not looking at her, but fixedly at the entrance, and so he did not see the rush of hot blood to Estella’s cheeks – nor did she see his own discomfort, for her part, as she, too, was staring at the entrance, at least until a touch on her arm brought her gaze back to meet his. ‘Be sure and cover up any sign you’ve been there,’ he said, nodding for emphasis, and she nodded in return, to show her understanding.

He leaned towards the entrance then, nearly resting his head on the concealing leaf pile, taut with listening once more, and then nodded. ‘If I say to run, then you run until you can find a place to hide, and don’t look back, no matter what; d’you understand?’

Tense, she managed a nod.

Ferdi pushed his way out, letting a flood of light into their sanctuary, and she followed, though her limbs cramped from the unaccustomed freedom. She looked around quickly to mark the spot and saw some leafy brambles nearby, tall enough to shield her from Ferdi’s eyes. She hurried to take care of her necessary business, not really heeding that Ferdi was doing the same, concealed by another bramble patch on the far side of the hollowed tree. All she knew was that it was a dreary day, and the sky was grey above them, making the leaves around her more intensely green, while the flowers of the wild strawberry plants at her feet glowed bright pink and white in contrast.

Birds sang in the canopy above, and somewhere a squirrel scolded, but there were no alarm cries, on the part of the wild things. Estella felt a certain peace, here in the depths of the Woody End. It was quiet, with no noise of Man or Hobbit, not even a tang of smoke in the air from someone’s fire.

Ferdi was waiting by the entrance when she returned. He gestured for her to enter first, and followed her into the hollow, turning to wipe out any trace of their passing, before he pushed the drift of leaves in place once more, to conceal the hollow. ‘Sleep,’ he said now, gesturing at her pack-pillow. ‘We’ll eat a bit more when we waken, and leave at dusk.’

***

Stiff as she was, the first mile or so of their travel was painful, but soon she fell into a sort of rhythm of walking – and walk they did, in this stretch of the journey, for Ferdi crooked his arm and tucked Estella’s hand into place at his elbow, and they strolled along quite as if they were hobbits on a walking holiday – if hobbits on a walking holiday should walk at night, through uninhabited forest, without even stars above to explain their wakefulness. She wondered if this stretch of forest was where Twig’s family might live, in the “back of the back Woods” as Hally had put it, that is, if Twig’s family existed, a point she’d never been quite sure about, from hearing Hally and Rose talk about Twig’s family.

At one point they stopped where a spring rose from the ground and poured out to make a tiny stream that trickled away into the forest. The water was icy cold and refreshing to drink, and Ferdi had Estella refill her water bottle in the small pool where the spring water welled up. She splashed her face as well, and felt more wakeful for the rest of the night.

It was a pleasant night’s journey, and Estella felt as if she could keep on like this for days, if need be, though she was very hungry, and all the exercise made her hungrier. They were eating less than half of what she’d enjoy at home, or even at Hally and Rosemary’s little smial. She looked forward to arriving at the Great Smials – when last she’d attended a feast there, the tables had nearly groaned with food.

She stopped to consider – well, not literally, for of course she kept walking, keeping to the pace Ferdi set – and wondered how the Tooks were faring in these Troubled times. Of course, they’d kept the ruffians out of the Tookland, and so their crops had not been gathered. On the other hand, they would not have been able to trade with the rest of the Shire, even if the Shire-folk had retained enough food to trade, what with the gathering done by Lotho’s ruffians. She wasn’t sure what grew in the Tookland, besides barley and sheep, though of course each smial-holder would have a kitchen garden for vegetables. Still, what would a feast at the Great Smials look like, these days? And would they even hold a feast for any reason?

A memorial feast, for a death, a little voice said deep inside. She shuddered and pulled her cloak closer about herself with her free hand, remembering the memorial feast for Pippin, not long before Yuletide… Yuletide ought to be a time for joy, for looking forward to Yuletide celebrations, not a fitting time for mourning one lost too early, though the Tooks had left the Thain little choice in the matter, demanding that he honour his son – lost in the attack on Crickhollow, it was said, by mysterious creatures that came out of the Old Forest and bore away the hobbits there. Her own brother Freddy had narrowly escaped death – he had fled the attack, run for help, but help had come too late. The Thain had not wanted to admit his son was gone, but in the end he'd been overruled by the Tooks, shamed, forced to honour Pippin's memory in the proper manner and name a successor.

***

They had walked for most of the night – and even though the days were growing longer, all night was long enough to be walking, or so Estella’s muscles told her – and the trees around them were now discernable in the increasing light, when Ferdi stopped at a large outcropping of rock on the wooded hillside they had been traversing, and seemed to be hunting about for something. At last, he found what he was looking for. Pushing aside some low growth, he bent down, and disappeared. His hand appeared, beckoning, and Estella bent down and followed.

They were in a dry cave, some sort of den, she guessed, though thankfully no animal was there, only a lingering scent of old musk. ‘I’m never sure I’ll find this place empty when I come,’ Ferdi said in a low voice, ‘but I’m that grateful that it remains empty. Hopefully any fox or badger that sought this place would smell “hobbit” here and decide not to stay.’

This place was roomier than their previous hidey-hole, and Estella welcomed the notion of being able to turn over in her sleep, to stretch out her weary legs if the day’s exercise should bring on cramping in the night – even to sleep a little separate from Ferdibrand, now that would be a luxury indeed!

They ate their supper – or would it be breakfast? Estella wondered, went out cautiously to take care of their personal needs, and then sat companionably in the shadowy den, neither ready to sleep, and watched the day brighten outside.

‘We ought not to be disturbed here,’ Ferdi whispered, ‘for there are no smials nearby, and we are well off the beaten track as the old saying goes – though the wild Green Hills grow even wilder beyond this point, and there are streams too deep for us to cross, that bar our way. We’ll have to make our way back towards the Stock Road, eventually, and that will be the time of greatest danger, half a day or less before we cross the borderland into the free Tookland.’

‘How long?’ Estella whispered back.

Ferdi considered, tilting his head. ‘We’ve made very good time,’ he said, ‘better than I’d hoped, in fact. I think, instead of six days, we might well be able to reach Tuckborough in five…’

Estella thought to herself, Two days to this place, and three more… She asked aloud, ‘How many days to the borderland, then? Will we be a full day in the Tookland, on our way to the Smials?’

Ferdi laughed silently and patted her shoulder, as if she really were a lad instead of a troublesome girl that he must escort for her own safety. ‘Two more days to the borderland; you have the right of it, if that’s what you are figuring…’

She smiled in return, but her smile faded when he sobered and said, ‘Ah, but not so easy as this day was. Ah, the morrow will be – at least the first part, while we remain deep in the wild country, though the second part of tomorrow’s journey will be more like yesterday – more chance of ruffians, and Lotho’s Shirriffs, looking for hobbits who are out and about after curfew.’

‘Curfew?’ Estella said. It was an unfamiliar word.

‘They’ve set times, do you see? …when hobbits mayn’t stir foot outside their doors. They think it helps them to keep order. For, of course, bands like the one your brother leads would hardly do their raiding under the light of the Sun, now would they? Not unless they were foolhardy…’

Or desperate, Estella thought to herself. Rather like ourselves, having to skirt the bog, not tomorrow but the day after.

Still, this day’s (or night’s, rather) travel had been easy enough, she could hope for more of the same. Could she not?

Hope costs naught, she remembered Frodo saying once, when she had tagged after himself, Merry, and Freddy, and hid behind a tree to listen to their conversation. But hope, misplaced, can cost you everything. Unaccountably, she shivered.

‘But you’re taking cold,’ Ferdi said, unfastening his cloak, and despite Estella’s attempt to wave away his gallantry, he pulled it around her shoulders, with a firm, ‘We can’t have you sneezing, just at the wrong time, and a ruffian hearing and discovering us!’

‘I suppose not,’ she said grudgingly.

‘Well then,’ Ferdi said. ‘Full daylight is here, and dusk will come all too soon. We had better seek our pillows, such as they are.’ He suited action to word, plumping up his pack as best he could, and lying down with his head on the pack, his back to Estella.

Estella followed suit, lying herself down and listening for a long time, until his breathing changed and grew even. She sat up, cautiously, making as little noise as possible, but he didn’t move or make a sound. She turned to see him curled together, as if to keep himself warm. With great care and stealth, she took up his cloak and laid it over him, and then she laid herself down once more, her back turned to his, and gave herself up to sleep.