I started on the road once more, a little apprehensive now, after Mistress Polly’s warnings.

The afternoon was drawing on, and the shadows in front of me were growing longer. And then I began to see them away to the south--those ominous mist-shrouded hillocks. Just the sight of them caused a chill to run down my back and my stomach to do flip-flops. I began to remember some of those campfire stories, which had been both thrilling and funny at the time--now, though, they seemed to hold an ominous kernel of truth hidden within. Stories of creeping hands and ghostly mutters, of travellers venturing into the barrow-mounds in search of gold or other treasures and never seen again; or seen months later, white-haired and gibbering in madness.

All those stories could not be just stories, could they? After all there was the old Shire saying: “No smoke without fire”. For the first time since I had left, I began to wish myself safe at home in front of the hearth with my family around me, especially my father.

Teatime had passed, and suppertime was approaching. But for once I had no appetite, and no desire to stop to eat. The Sun had not yet set-- the days were still long-- after all, it was only a few weeks since Lithe. But she was tinting the sky behind me in rosy colours, and the sky in front of me was going purple. I even saw a star or two twinkling far to the East. I could not keep riding much longer. It would be dark very soon. Yet I had hoped to get away from the sight of those Barrows before I stopped.

The land to my left was perfectly ordinary. It was lightly wooded, not dense and dark like the Old Forest, but beeches and alders were growing in small copses. And as my head was beginning to ache from hunger-- for if my stomach rebelled at the thought of food, my head most certainly knew it had missed two meals-- I finally decided I would have to stop for the night.

I recalled from some of the maps I had seen at home, that I was probably only a half-days’ journey out from Bree. But I was exhausted, and I was sure that my pony was just as weary. Poor Porridge! He had never had so long a journey in all his life, I am sure!

There was a thicket just off the road, about two rods to the north, and I could see the gleam of a little rivulet running nearby. It had a wholesome look about it, especially compared to what was visible to the south of the road. I led Porridge off the road, and as he drank his fill in the little brook, I unsaddled him, and tethered him. As he cropped the grass for his supper, I found the bannocks Mistress Polly had given me, and some cheese, and a pear. I started a small fire and brewed a pot of tea, and then I settled in to enjoy my meal and a pipe.

But I still could not help thinking about those barrows. Facing them, I could not get them out of my mind. I tried turning my back on them, but that was even worse--what if something did come from there, and I did not see it sneaking up on me? I thought of Mistress Polly’s words. “Shuddersome” was the least of it.

When I finished my food and my tea, I banked the fire. Then I took out my blanket roll, and lay down upon the ground, with my back to the fire and facing the road. I would try to get some rest, and yet still keep watch. I felt so wide awake with apprehension that I was sure I could not sleep!

But my eyes grew heavy, and soon I drifted into a restless slumber, haunted by ill dreams. I still cannot remember them except that each involved being pursued, but I kept falling into them and then thinking myself awake, only to realise as some new fear arose, that I was still dreaming. And each new dream seemed worse than the last.

And so it was that for the instant I heard my pony whickering in fear, that I sat up to find myself surrounded by large figures, I thought myself still in a nightmare: until hands clutched at me, and they were all too real. Loud, harsh laughter rang in my ears, and I struggled mightily. Finally, in desperation, I lashed out with one foot and at the same time, sank my teeth into my captor’s arm. With a curse, he flung me aside.

I was for only a split second stunned. But I scrambled to my feet and fled, not even caring in which direction I was running. I felt the hard surface of the road beneath my feet, and then cool grass, and then even more fear.

I had run straight across the road towards the Barrows, and now my panic gave way to a freezing fear. My heart pounded, and I heard chill voices, cold as death and chanting in an unknown tongue. I felt my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth. I wanted to scream, but my voice did not work. Something horrid was approaching me--I could sense malice like nothing I’d ever imagined. It seemed as though laughter teased at the edge of my hearing--cold and evil laughter. I could not move, not move at all.

And then I heard another sound: Porridge whinnying loudly in the distance, and it broke the evil spell.

I backed up slowly, and then I turned and ran again, very nearly mad with horror--right into the arms of my captors.

They were not gentle with me. They were Men, clearly brigands and ruffians of the worst sort. Their language was coarse and crude, and with many curses they relieved me of my purse.

One of them said, “Well, shall we slit his throat here, or wait until we’re out of sight of the road?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said one of the others. “I think we might make something off him. There’s those as’d pay right well for a fine young Shire-ratling like this.”

There was more crude laughter at this remark. They bound me with ropes, and flung me atop the back of my hapless pony, across his back with my head hanging down, and then with their big booted feet, they stomped out the fire and led me off, into the Wild.